Drake StAllen: Gotham Files
by Darkfangz13
Summary: Drake St.Allen is a child mercenary who is chasing his parents' killer for revenge. The last he heard of the man, he was setting up an assassination for Gotham City's favorite millionaire. And wherever Drake is, trouble is never too far behind.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Gotham loomed dark and ominous over Drake. He gulped, it reminded him of the day of his adoption. A bloodbath followed his arrival that day. He was concerned how his presence would affect this city. He had come to the isolated island under the name Allen Smitheson. To the police, Drake he had dissappeared off the face of the earth, he was probably even dead. He was content with that status and wanted to keep it.

He had come to Gotham in pursuit of Malak, the man who had dragged him into the life he now lived. His guardian and mentor, Logan, also known as The Custodian, had told him he had resurfaced here to kill off some insanely rich guy named Bruce Wayne. Drake knew nothing of this city, knew nothing of its rules, and of its people. He hung his head and pulled his coat collars to his ears against the cold Winter wind. He would just have to lay low and observe for the time being. He had time before the execution date.

Drake collapsed on the dusty couch of his rented apartment situated in the Gotham slums where nobody asked anybody's name. As long as you had money, who cared about who you were? It was simple, Drake liked it here. With a tired sigh he rummaged through his coat pockets for his notes. He squinted in the dim light to read the scribbles properly. So far, he had posed as a tourist, a school kid, a cop, and a potentially rising star in the criminal world to ask around Gotham City; who were the most powerful people in Gotham?

There was Bruce Wayne; Drake knew the name from the Custodian. Apparently, he was an airheaded multimillionaire playboy who had inherited his wealth and fame from his murdered parents. Interesting.

There was also Batman; a man who dressed like a bat and roamed Gotham's roofs at night to fight crime. He was definitely a nutcase. An intelligent, clever nutcase with a great sense of justice. Drake pulled up all files an information on the Batman from the Gotham City Police to judge for himself what was fiction and what was fact with the character. He also studied his sidekick; Robin. The boy never seemed to age, he always grew like normal boys would and suddenly disappear for a while only to return as a young boy again. There must be more than one Robin, Drake decided. He pulled up a security feed of the sidekick around the time he first appeared, then one several years later, and finally a recent one. He nodded grimly to himself. Three different personalities, three different styles of fighting, three different people. He would investigate this further.

Then there were Batman's many enemies; The Joker, an insane man who liked lame jokes and blew things up. But with the many chances to kill Batman, he never took them. He intrigued Drake. There were a great many other villains. Two-face, Poison Ivy, Penguin, Bane... the list went on. The only ones to catch Drake's interest were two remarkable women.

Catwoman and Harley Quinn. Drake clearly felt the thrill of sneaking around, bypassing intricate security systems, and stealing from people. He found nothing wrong with a woman who loved wealth, diamonds were a girl's best friend, right? Drake held women who could get it for themselves in high esteem. She was a feline fatale with nine lives. He admired the woman, but preferably from a distance. He wasn't interested in her civilian identity but had decided to stick to his adamant view of ignorance being a sin. But he liked her name and had heard rumors of the villain's beauty but he couldn't stay in Gotham long.

Harley Quinn gained his admiration for an entirely different reason. She was the sidekick of Gotham's... no, the world's greatest madman. There were also rumors of the two being an item. He couldn't quite wrap his mind around it. Why would a beautiful doctor like her throw away her whole career for a madman who would just as soon wash his hands of her? As he thought, this couple would need a rational eye on them... someone who wasn't Batman.

He lowered his notes with a sigh and covered his eyes with his arm. He yawned and felt sleep creeping up on him. It must be the jetlag. He leapt to his feet and slunk into the bathroom to wash his face. He would need to be wide awake and alert for his first glance... or meeting with the Dynamic Duo. He wiped his drenched face and stared at himself in the mirror. He would need a plan.

'This is stupid' Drake thought when he found himself crouched down on the roofs of Gotham not twenty meters from the GCPD building. There was a bombing incident a little out of the city and the police would most likely not spare a second glance at the case as nothing but deserted warehouses were destroyed. But Drake knew Commissioner James Gordon had a sharp mind. He would know that the bomb wasn't made by some lowlife thug who didn't know what he was doing. It was a pretty complicated and powerful bomb. Drake would know, he made it.

Now he was sitting, watching as the Commissioner operated the large spotlight he had heard to be referred to as the 'Batsignal' to summon the legend. Drake watched the light reflect of the smog overshadowing Gotham and realized that this wasn't the first time he had seen it. He had seen it the first night he spent in the gloomy city. He had seen it from afar, and had thought it was the moon. It took him a while to wrap his mind around the thought that Gotham had no moon.

There was a slight rustling sound directly above him that made Drake immediately freeze, every muscle in his body tensing. He held his breath as Batman himself swooped over his hiding spot followed closely by a young man that Drake had deduced to be the third Robin. The two landed gracefully, silently on the GCPD roofs unnoticed by Commissioner Gordon. Once making their presence known, the legend and the link that tied him to reality spoke briefly about Drake and Batman had promised to find him. As soon as the two vigilantes disappeared, both he and the Commissioner let out a unified sigh of relief. Batman wasn't someone Drake wanted as an enemy, that was for sure. By the look on Commissioner Gordon's face, he thought so too.

After returning to his apartment, Drake continued his research on Bruce Wayne. He studied the man's career, his lifestyle, and his schedule. It was imperative that he knew when the hit would most likely take place. There was one problem. After chasing and studying Malak, he knew his usual methods. The hit would be quick and effective, leaving too many suspects for the police to handle. But the millionaire was alot more cautious than the press gave him credit for. His security was tight and he was rarely ever alone. He was always accompanied with his faithful butler, Alfred Pennyworth. Or one of his adoptive sons Richard 'Dick' Grayson Wayne, former Flying Grayson. Or Timothy Drake Wayne, the son of a late family friend. Bruce Wayne also had another adopted son, Jason Todd, who had passed away. Drake really had nothing to say about the millionaire's many female escorts. He couldn't rely on the press or security to know where Malak would strike. The assassin would personally get close to the target to find a hole in his security, so that's where Drake would also be.

The easiest way to get close to Bruce Wayne was through his youngest son Tim Drake. The name was a little disconcerting but Drake was Allen Smitheson now, anyway. He hacked into Tim's school and registered himself as Allen Smitheson and was sure to get himself in the same classes as Tim. After studying a final case file on Batman, Drake closed his tired eyes and slept on the couch.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

"Um, hi. My name is Allen, Allen Smitheson. I just moved here and don't know much about Gotham, but I'm willing to learn. So bear with me, okay?" he introduced himself with fake confidence in front of his class. He resisted the urge to glance at his target. The older boy was sitting two rows from the back of the room, one row from the right. A very neutral spot in Drake's opinion. He was directed by the teacher to sit at any empty spot he found and walked to the back of the classroom to sit at one of the desks in the very back row. He pretended to ignore the evaluating glances Timothy Drake was subtly shooting in his direction. He was suddenly happy with his decision to position himself behind the teen and well out of sight. He crossed his arms on the desk and sighed silently when the teacher began droning about the date and place of some historical incident that changed the course of history. Drake thought history was useless unless it had something to do with battle strategy. That was the reason the Custodian never taught him, right? Drake glanced around a little nervously. Now that he thought about it, it was the first time for him to be in school as a student. He fought to calm himself when he realized that lunch break was probably the only time to approach his target and he had absolutely no idea how to do that. He buried his head in his hands and silently whimpered. He had a feeling it would be a bad day.

Class was alright, the teachers were pleasant at some times and his classmates smiled and waved to him as he passed by in the halls. They were friendly kids. He walked over to Tim's table in the cafeteria at lunch break. "Can I sit down here?" he asked politely, hoping his shyness wasn't showing as much as he thought. Tim raised clear blue eyes to his brown ones and motioned to a chair beside him.

"Make yourself comfortable." Drake was suddenly very glad the teen had been eating alone. He felt undeniably self conscious. He was used to approaching adults as a mature teen. He had no experince with approaching normal teens and pretending to be one himself.

"Hey, I'm Allen Smitheson. You?" he offered the older boy his hand.

Tim shook it with an artificial warmness. Drake had the feeling Tim was used to this. "Timothy Drake. Call me Tim." Drake inwardly sighed in relief. It seemed like the press was accurate when they spoke of his maturity. He felt a little less awkward.

"Sorry, you must think it's strange that I'm approaching you but I'm terrible at making friends and you're the only one who's face I've seen before." Drake rambled off, Tim smiled at him amusedly.

"That's alright. I'm not such a people person myself..." he leaned toward Drake conspiratorially. "But don't tell anyone I told you that. The press says I'll grow up to be a more reliable Bruce Wayne just with less scandalous rumors involving the ladies." he grinned and Drake found it strangely contagious.

"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me." he smiled back.

"So, where did you say you were from?" Tim continued their conversation.

"I didn't." Drake replied honestly, "I came from England... well, I transferred from L.A to England and from there, here." he shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

Drake pulled up all the information he had on Timothy Drake, he was a straight A student, right? "Say, I heard from one of the teachers that you're really good with school. You're a hot subject, every teacher wants you in his or her class. You think you can help me with my math? It's all gibberish to me." Tim smiled at him and promised to help as much as he could.

_"Oracle's on line, she want's to talk to you. She won't tell me what's going on unless you or Robin are online."_ Nightwing spoke to Batman over his earpiece. He sounded a little serious so Batman paused his routine patrol and complied immediately.

"Oracle, you're on." Batman told her as he landed on a deserted roof.

_"Okay, I just found out that someone hacked into the GCPD. Usually I would know about these things immediately but whoever did this must be pretty good at what he or she does. I'd say this is pretty much Robin's level of hacking." _the cybervigilante told them.

_"That's saying alot."_ Nightwing agreed. _"What did the hacker want?"_ he asked.

_"That's the thing I'm worried about." _Oracle said grimly. _"The hacker stole all case files on every costumed criminal and vigilante in Gotham. That counts for visiting ones too. Meaning; he has information on almost every member of the Justice League and much more."_

"Why?" Batman demanded.

_"I don't know..." _Oracle paused. _"The only files he touched other than people in spandex are the files on Commissioner James Gordon, Bruce Wayne, and his associates."_ He heard Nightwing suck in a breath.

_"Should I come over there? I can ask someone else to handle Bludhaven. There's not much going on over here."_ his son asked concernedly.

Batman shook his head. "If I need you here, I'll call you immediately." he told him firmly. "Oracle, if you catch anymore movement, contact me." With that, he cut the connection. He frowned, first the bombing and now this? It was too much of a coincidence. He debated on telling his young partner... he shrugged his shoulders. He could always leave a note.

"Alfred! Bruce! I'm home!" Tim called out as he walked through the front door.

"Master Tim! I had thought you would be visiting a friend! If you had changed your mind, you should've called!" the faithful old butler exclaimed when he greeted him.

"Sorry! Change of plans! A friend of mine is going to visit here for a study session in a few hours." Tim told Alfred apologetically. "Is there an empty room we could use?"

Alfred nodded. "With the size of the mansion, I would find it hard not to find room for you and your friend's study session." he replied warmly. "And Master Tim," he called as the teen turned to leave. "Congratulations on inviting your first guest. I will inform Master Bruce." he told him crisply.

Drake found himself standing outside steel gates five minutes before meeting time. He gulped down a gasp. Seeing Gotham reminded him of his home... but this was almost deja vu. He pressed on the doorbell and was answered a few seconds later by a crisp English accent. "Good evening, Master Smitheson. Master Timothy has been eagerly awaiting your arrival." No sooner had Drake thanked him when the automatic gate opened and Drake nearly dashed up the trail to the front door.

It was open and waiting for him so he hurried and found himself face-to-face with his enemy's target. Bruce Wayne. "G-good evening, , Sir." he stuttered. Bruce looked him up and down not unlike what Tim had done in the classroom.

The man smiled at him finally. "Nice to meet you, I'm Bruce." he held out his hand to shake.

Drake nervously took it, only then realizing the clamminess in his own hands. He resisted the urge to flinch at the feeling. "I'm Allen."

Tim bounded onto the scene, an elderly butler following closely on his heels. Drake guessed he must be the man who answered the bell. "Glad you made it!" Tim exclaimed. "And just in time too! Alfred made the most heavenly batch of chocolate chip cookies, you've got to try some!"

Drake had to smile at Tim's enthusiasm. He then turned to nod at the butler who introduced himself as Alfred Pennyworth. Of course, Drake already knew that, but seeing him outside a picture was an entirely different experience. He turned back to his new friend. "So, Tim, how about that study session? There's a science test coming up and I don't know the difference between Uranium and Curium." Alfred smiled approvingly at them as Bruce tried to hide a scowl. It made Drake and Tim grin at each other.

"Right this way, Master Smitheson." Alfred beckoned them to follow him.

"Allen, please, Sir." Drake smiled pleasantly as he followed.


	3. Chapter 3

"Who's that?" Drake asked, pointing at a picture of Dick and Tim. They were taking a break from school and devouring Alfred's chocolate chip cookies with milk.

Tim turned to look at the picture Drake was pointing at. "Oh, that's Dick, my older brother." he told him simply. "He was adopted by Bruce, like me." Tim sounded like he admired the man very much. Drake was trying to get familiar with Bruce's associates and looked around for a picture of Jason. He didn't find one.

"The butler, Alfred Pennyworth, he's really friendly, he seems like family." he pointed out nonchalantly, Tim nodded.

"Alfred raised Bruce after he became an orphan."

Drake diverted his gaze. "I'm sorry."

Tim shrugged his shoulders helplessly. "There's nothing for you to be sorry about, it's not like it's new news to the press either."

Drake nodded. "So, tell me more about your family."

Back in the Batcave, Bruce was hunched over the Batcomputer, typing furiously on the keyboard when Alfred walked in. "Master Bruce, may I ask what you are doing?" Bruce aknowleged the man's presence with a low grunt but didn't look up. "Suspicious of Master Tim's new friend, I suppose?" Bruce looked up at him at that.

"He enrolled today, Alfred. Not many people invite themselves to other classmate's homes in such a short time. And Tim isn't the type to go inviting people over that easily, you know that." Bruce told him, Alfred nodded understandingly.

"There is nothing wrong with being concerned, Master Bruce. But do keep your suspicions to yourself until you are certain Master Allen is a threat. Master Tim is well capable to look after himself." with that, the butler left the cave.

Bruce couldn't deny that Alfred had a point, but now he had another detail to consider. Could Allen Smitheson be lying about who he was? He could've approach any other student, why Tim? Tim was well trained to dissappear in a crowd. What if Allen Smitheson was involved with the bomb and hacking? But what if it was just coincidence? Bruce rubbed his forehead and ran a search on Allen's name. If he had used credit cards or passport or if he had went to the dentist, he would know about it. He wrote a note to Tim about the new case and decided that if Tim saw the same potential connection to Allen, he would tell Batman about it. He left the note open on the large overhead screen so Tim would see it when he came in. He left the cave to tell Tim and Alfred that he was leaving for work when he heard Tim and 'Allen' talking.

"Yeah, don't worry about it. I'm not someone who's comfortable with talking about family to strangers either. It was just a question I'm usually asked. I'm sorry." Allen said apologetically. "It's just... my family is complicated, nobody talks about it. It's like... taboo." Tim quickly assured him it was alright, no harm done. Allen looked truely relieved. "Whew! What would I have done? Losing my first friend in Gotham on my first day at school?"

Tim smiled at that. "I know the feeling." The two exchanged sheepish glances and chuckled like old friends. It was rare to see Tim so comfortable with anybody else. He had a sense of family and camaraderie with Nightwing and trusted the Batclan explicately, he was friends with his partners in the Young Justice. But outside the mask, he had few friends. He crossed his arms and leant on the doorway.

Surprisingly, it was Allen who noticed him first. That should've raised at least seventy different alarms in his head but it didn't. Allen nudged Tim and nodded in Bruce's direction. "I'll go find Alfred and see if he has some more milk leftover." he announced and strutted off with his glass.

"I take it you won't be coming on patrol today?" Bruce asked, Tim shook his head furiously.

"I doubt he's stay here that long." he told his father. "He said he needed to be back home in about half-an-hour." Bruce nodded.

"I'll be going on ahead, find me later." He patted Tim's shoulder and smiled before leaving.

"Okay... not the kitchen." Drake muttered when he found himself in another deserted room. He was completely lost. He glanced at the grandfather clock and noticed the time. "Oh, man! I gotta go!" he exclaimed when he stopped short. "Strange... I couldn't have been here for more an an hour... oh. The clock's broken! Sneaking little, er, big machine, almost tricked me!" He poked at the clock's hands. He had seen many grandfather clocks but in his opinion, grandfather clocks should always be functioning. It gave a sense that wonderful times never stopped. It was a naive and hopeful dream. He shrugged his shoulders and continued probing the clock face when he heard a distinct click. He started and looked around. But the noise had undeniably come from the disfunctional clock. He tilted his head and moved the hands again. He moved the long hand a whole round and again heard a click when it reached 47 minutes. He tried the short had for good measure and found the same thing happened when the hand reached 10.

"10:47 p.m, Thomas and Martha Wayne died." he mused. "It can't be coincidence." He prodded and nudged the door until it swung open, it lead into an elevator. Drake paused momentarily, wondering if it was a safe decision to pry. He decided, it was Gotham. Everybody had secrects. It was only fair, lots of people outside of Gotham also had dangerous secrets and he never pried more than neccesary. He pushed the door closed and moved the clock's time to 7:28. the time of his own parent's death. He left no room for second thoughts and left, calling out Tim and Alfred's names. He needed serious help if he wanted out of this place.

Unbeknownst to him, his movements were caught on the security camera and immediately forwarded to Oracle. She watched him, a hand hovering over the phone that would immediately put her through to Bruce or anybody else who could stop him. She let out a sigh of relief when he walked away from one of Gotham's biggest secrets. She slouched back into her wheelchair, wondering why he didn't take the elevator. Of course, she would have stopped it between floors and called Batman to clean up the mess but it was in human nature to satisfy their curiosity, wasn't it? She waited and watched as Allen found a very helpful Alfred and said goodbye to Tim before leaving. She waited a good ten minutes before calling the manor. She explained the situation to Alfred who she knew would make a calm and reasonable decision and tell Bruce about the incident. Barbara would never cease to admire the man.

"Allen did what!" Tim was incredulous. He had read Batman's note and had just come back from patroling with him when Alfred broke the news to them.

"You seem to have some trouble hearing, Master Tim, I will repeat myself. Master Allen may have realized Master Bruce's identity as Batman." Tim paled considerably.

"'May have?' you mean you're not sure?" Bruce asked as he pulled his cowl off.

Alfred nodded. "He found the secret entrance through the grandfather clock but perhaps by a sense of nobility, never reached the Batcave. He seemed to understand that people had secrets that he had no right to know and left." he explained. Bruce said nothing but it was apparant to his two companions that he was greatly impressed.

"If he doesn't ask about it, then we will pretend we don't know. Keep a sharp eye on him." he ordered the other two. He went to check on the progress of his research on Allen as soon as Tim and Alfred left. He was met with the most worriesome words he could hear at the moment. 'Name not found'. There were related searches listed. Anybody with the given name 'Allen' or anybody with the surname 'Smitheson' would show up. None of the names refered to anyone that could be the Allen Smitheson in question. He searched the name in the school records and found it easily. Allen Smitheson was registered in Gotham Heights but not in the system. It had been hacked. Just then, his phone rang, it was Oracle on the other end.

"I know, I know." Was the first thing she said to him.

"You know what?" Bruce demanded.

"That the Gotham Heights records have been hacked and that Allen Smitheson isn't a real person." Oracle stated simply. "I'm running a search on his face now. I've got to go. I'll call you if I have anything."

"Oracle, wait." Bruce ordered and was satisfied not to hear a click on the other end. "Search up case records involving families in L.A in the last ten or so years. Search for deaths that occurred at 7:28."

"You got it boss." Oracle replied and hung up.

Tim let out a sigh and ran his fingers through his hair as he watched the security feed of Allen by the secret entrance to the Batcave. Allen knew, he had to know! Even if he didn't, he knew the Waynes had a dangerous secret. Would he start avoiding him tomorrow? There was a light tap at his window and he peered out to see Nightwing hanging on the window sill, waiting for him. It would soon be morning so Tim took pity on his older brother and let him in.

"So little brother, what's this I hear about someone bombing empty warehouses and hacking police files?" Nightwing asked as light-heartedly as he could manage. But it was obvious that Tim didn't want to talk about it.

"It might be Allen." Tim stated, Nightwing blinked, bewildered.

"Okay... who's 'Allen'?"

"My new classmate at school."

Nightwing tilted his head to the side. "I'm sorry, I'm completely lost."

Alfred knocked and walked through the door at the exact timing Tim needed. As always. "I believe I could help by explaining the situation. But first things first, when was the last time you've had a full meal?" With that, the wise butler firmly escorted the protective older brother our of the room.

Tim groaned and fell back on his bed. He had only a few hours before he had to show his face at school again and face, well, try to face Allen. He turned on his side and wrapped his blanket around him. He tried to sleep. He knew it wouldn't happen.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Drake got back to his apartment to find his computer in a state of alarm. He rushed over to the desk and discovered the reason; someone had run a search on Allen Smitheson's name. And not only one person, but two! He tsked and went to work. His first order of action was to shut down the school system's mainframe completely due to 'technical difficulties' perhaps he could still salvage what he could from the situation and reinforce the proof of his identity. Maybe he should forge a doctor's receipt for a cold or something. He hated dentists. An hour later and he still hadn't gotten around whoever was searching on him. He was worried his cover would be completely blown worse than he could fix. He was downright terrified when he began to be hacked by a hacker of much greater skill than him. He pulled the plug. He collapsed back in his seat and rubbed his forehead. What to do now? He couldn't go back to Gotham Heights where Tim would be. It was most likely Bruce Wayne who ran one of the two searches on him. He would tell his son that Allen Smitheson wasn't a real person. Imaginary friends were only for little children. He beat the back of his head on the chair's headrest. What to do? What to do? Ran like a mantra in his head. He glanced out of his window to see the sky beginning to brighten. Maybe he should sleep it off? He shook his head. He couldn't sleep when he was as agitated as he was. He needed a distraction.

After watching Batman and Robin flying through the streets of Gotham City, it was a little disappointing for him to have to walk. He decided that if he had no jobs waiting for him after this one, he would teach himself to fly. Just for the fun of it. He again turned his coat collars up and shoved his hands deep into his pockets, shivering slightly. He wandered the streets for a while with no particular destination in mind and before he knew it, he was deep in Crime Alley. The name was self explanatory and as he continued on, Drake found the crimes being committed to be horrible and more gruesome. Even he felt sick in his stomach. But he continued on.

It was nearly morning when he felt a pair of sharp eyes on the back of his neck and turned. "You can come out and approach me if you need something from me, Sir." he stated, staring hard at a shadow on a wall.

"Not bad, not bad at all." a half-interested voice droned. "Three meters and you know I'm here. You're good."

Drake crossed his arms. "Do you need something from me?" he asked abruptly. "Because if you don't, I would like to go on my way... unaccompanied."

The man walked out of the shadows and Drake saw that he wore a domino mask and had white streaks in his hair. "I want to know what you're doing here." The man demanded.

"I didn't know there was a masquerade going on in Gotham, I guess I missed the note." he taunted, tilting his head to the side. "And to answer your question. I'm lost." he stated unabashedly. It wasn't exactly true but it wasn't a lie at the same time.

The man stared, evaluating him and for the second time, Drake felt a vague sense of deja vu. Then the man burst out laughing. "You're obviously not a normal person. Who are you?" he asked. "Maybe you're the one who's going around asking strange questions about Batman?"

"And the Joker, Poison Ivy, Two-face, and many others, yes."

"So you're the one who hacked into the police case files?"

"Whoa! Whoa! Hold on a tick! I admitted to asking around about various costumed persons. I mean, I'm from out of town and don't get to see stuff often. I'm curious, so sue me! But I didn't do nothing to the police... whatever!"

The man narrowed his eyes at him warily, as though studying his micro-expressions. "Liar." he hissed.

Drake shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "So what if I am?" he asked. "It's none of your business."

"It is my business when someone who had stupidly gotten himself on Batman's radar comes wandering into my grounds! He'll come chasing you and that'll be bad for me. So prove you're useful to me or get out." he towered over Drake. "Or I will throw you out in less than one piece." he threatened.

"You seem to know alot about Batman. Mind sharing some information to this stupid person who got himself on his radar?" he smiled.

"I don't like it when people repeat what I say."

"But I do that alot. See, words shape a person, says alot about them. But someone with no name, no real identity, has no need for them. I don't have the imagination to stretch out a conversation in which I don't repeat someone else's words." The masked man raised an eyebrow at him. "That particular speech was made by my mentor, who in turn heard it from his mentor. I have no idea if that man has a mentor or not. It's not my place to know." Drake shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

"What's your name?" the man asked.

"Allen Smitheson."

"Liar. Your cover was blown. I want your real name."

"You wouldn't find my real name in a search engine. My name wasn't entered into the system. And Allen Smitheson is an alias, it doesn't have to be proved legit to serve it's purposes." he frowned. "Although it is troubling that it was blown. I was hoping to get in and out without any chances of future recognition." he explained.

The man thought about what Drake said for a moment, then finally extended his hand. "Alright, Allen Smitheson. I'm Red Hood." he turned to leave, motioning for Drake to follow him. "I don't suppose you'd want to talk over a few drinks?"

Drake followed him a little hesitantly. "You know I'm underaged." Jason gestured pointedly at their surroundings, Drake didn't want to drink but couldn't think of a reasonable excuse for himself. "Alright, as long as they don't ask for ID as you're already aware of my problems with that." Jason snorted and led him to a nearby bar.

"If you're with me, they won't ask any questions." he assured him and nudged him to a stool near the end of the bar, Jason sat beside him. "Beer." he motioned to the sorry excuse for a bartender. A second later, two bottles appeared in front of them and Drake suddenly remembered his throbbing headache. He waited for Jason to begin drinking before taking a powerful swig from his own bottle. Jason just watched him amusedly. "Careful there, tiger." he warned. But unbeknownst to him, Drake was used to the Custodian chugging down bottle after bottle of straight vodka and luring him into being his drinking partner. Beer was a beverage he could handle with no problem. It was like drinking water. If he was honest, he would need stronger stuff to get him slightly tipsy.

"My mentor claimed to be a Russian ex-military, what can I say?" he said at Jason's look.

"Sorry, kid. When you said you 'came from out of town' I instinctively thought you came from Metropolis or something."

"Never been there. Sorry."

Jason quietly nursed his bottle before finally speaking. "So, you want to talk information?"

Drake looked up at that. "If you're willing."

"Why?"

"Does it matter?"

Jason looked away. "I guess it doesn't." he sighed. "Alright, kid. What don't you know about who?"

"Batman."

"Costumed vigilante, skilled in fighting, investigating, and deduction. Has a policy of never killing people." This was information that Drake already knew. Hell, it was information that everybody knew. Red Hood knew how to give information without being informative.

"Ra's al Ghul."

Jason started but didn't react much more than that. "Arabic. Occupation; terrorist and assassin. His ultimate goal is to create a world with perfect environmental balance... that would mean destroying the majority of humanity. He's a nut."

"Penguin."

"He may be one of the only sane villains in Gotham. Commits crimes for the thrill of it and because he knows Batman can't testify in court against him in costume."

"The Joker."

At that, Jason glared at him much like the Custodian did sometimes when Drake made a comment that sounded like he knew something he wasn't supposed to know. In situations like this, Drake knew to let the man navigate the conversation. So he waited patiently and returned to gulping down his beer. Jason studied him for a few moments longer before finally also drinking his beer in silence, seemingly unaffected. He finally opened his mouth to speak. "Lets not talk about that."

Drake didn't miss the referral of the Joker as 'that' not 'him'. Jason wasn't entirely talking about not speaking of the man. Just of a certain incident concerning him. "Alright." he replied quietly. He tucked the information away safely in a cozy nook of his memory saved mostly for secrets he had the power to know but wouldn't pursue. The secret passageway in the Wayne Manor was also stowed there. "Alright." he repeated quieter to himself.

"I'm not in the mood for conversation anymore. Go down the street until you reach a two-lane road, follow it until you reach a safer part of town. From there you could find police to ask for directions." Jason ordered him, not looking up from his drink.

Drake nodded, thanked him for the drink, and left. "I'll be back if I want to get killed." Jason had to smirk at that. Allen Smitheson was someone who had the potential to be noteworthy. He called for the bill.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

_"Batman, it took a while but I found Allen Smitheson. He lives at an apartment alone, his landlord said he moved in three days ago or so. I'm sending the coordinates to you now."_ Oracle told Batman. _"And on an entirely different subject. Have you heard from Nightwing at all?"_

Batman sighed and glared at the elevator leading up to the manor. "Yes, Nightwing is over here. I'll tell him to contact you." he instructed Oracle to send him the address. He donned his Batman suit and turned to follow up on the lead when he found himself face-to-face with his young partner.

"Let me go." Batman let out a sigh at Tim's resolute expression and nodded reluctantly.

"Call me if you need backup." Tim nodded and rushed off to find his suit.

_"He's really Allen's friend, isn't he?"_ Batman cut the connection.

Half an hour later, Timothy Drake reached the address and told the landlord that Allen was expecting him for a study session. He was led up and let into the apartment but Allen was nowhere to be found. He caught sight of a scrap of paper that was tacked to the table and ripped it off. He ran his eyes over the simple, to the point words and crushed it in his hands. The words echoed in his mind unbidden. _'I'm sorry, Tim.'_

"So, what's the deal with him?" Nightwing asked as he watched Tim stomp angrily from the Batcave, across the kitchen where he and Alfred were peacefully conversing, and up to his room. He heard his younger brother slam the door as hard as he could, sending echoes through the old manor. When Bruce appeared in the kitchen a moment later, he looked as though he thought the manor would crumble and collapse about their ears.

"What happened?" The same question with different wording. Alfred wondered why the two of them were looking to him to suddenly know all the answers. He let out a sigh and picked up a plate of freshly baked cookies.

"I will go see if the damage to the manor can be fixed."

Drake took the opportunity of Alfred, Bruce, and Tim being out of the manor when he approached. If he was going to catch Malak, he needed no distractions. "I swear! He was so mad! He didn't talk to us, he slammed his door shut, and even Alfred's cookies couldn't bribe him to talk!" Drake winced at the unfamiliar voice on the other side of the door ranting on about someone, who he guessed to be Tim. The door flew open and Richard 'Dick' Grayson Wayne stood at the door with a cellphone wedged between his cheek and shoulder. He covered the microphone with his left hand. Drake guessed he was on the phone with a friend. "Sorry, do you need something?" he asked him.

"Um, yeah. I was hoping to find Tim. We had a fight and I just wanted to apologize to him. Is he here?" Drake asked, desperately hoping that the news of his infiltrating the Wayne Manor hadn't reached Grayson's ears yet.

"Uh huh," Dick hummed, half listening. "I'll tell him you stopped by..." he frowned slightly at the phone under his cheek. "What? I can't hear you properly! Okay, I'll be right there." Drake let out a sigh. He would just have to do this the hard way.

He shoved Dick backward into the apartment and with a swift following kick, knocked him flat on his back. Before the man could regain his composure he straddled him and hung up the cellphone with his left hand as he slid a blade just above Dick's Adam's apple with his right. He raised his finger to his lips in the universal signal demanding silence. "Listen to me carefully Richard Grayson, your family is in danger, not only from me but from someone stronger. If you don't want them to die, I suggest you do something about it. Bruce and Timothy Wayne are already too protected for me to warn them myself, but that level of security is not enough. He'll kill them easily and get away with it. I can't let that happen. I want the assassin's life to end, and I'm sure you would like to let your family's to continue. So help me out." Dick lay perfectly still under the blade but managed to nod weakly. Right now, he wasn't Nightwing, a vigilante trained to fight. He was just Dick Grayson a Bludhaven cop.

"What do you need me to do?" he asked. Drake grabbed and fumbled with Dick's cellphone. He punched the redial button and placed it to the side of Dick's face.

"There's an upcoming charity event that the Waynes are invited to. Bruce Wayne will make a speech. I need you to tell... " Drake squinted at the cellphone's screen. "...Miss Gordon that you won't be going to the event. You live in Bludhaven and work a dangerous job. Make an excuse, go back to Bludhaven, and stay there." he ordered him. Dick licked his dry lips and did just that. It was hard for him to resist grabbing hold of Drake's wrist and wrestling the knife out of his hands. He guessed he could do it in two seconds flat. Again, he had to remind himself that he wasn't in his Nightwing persona.

Once the call was done with, Drake hung up and threw the phone to the other side of the room. "Remember, stay in Bludhaven. I could handle looking after two Waynes who have to be there, I don't need an extra problem. If you show up and get into trouble, I won't save you." Of course, that was a lie. Drake would save those he could, he never played favorites. But he would never feel guilt for those he couldn't save. Not ever. He knocked Dick unconscious and left.

An hour later, he walked into his new apartment building, registered under the name Darren Caroll, and let himself fall onto the couch, unaware of the tracker Dick had stuck on him. He groaned and sat back up a few minutes later. He had work to do.

He stopped and shoved his hand into his coat pockets as he arrived on the opposite side of the street of a brightly lit nightclub. He had come to the Penguin for a high powered gun. He met with the man a few minutes later. "I have here some smaller guns that would be more fitting for your size..." Penguin was saying something that Drake wasn't interested in knowing... again. He sighed and turned to look the arms dealer straight in the eye.

"I need a gun, loud, powerful, sparks when fired, automatic, and continuous. If you have a gun that doesn't meet these requirements, I'm not interested in it." he stated simply. "I need a diversion, not a weapon." Penguin squawked indignantly at not being spoken to respectfully but pulled out a gun for him. "This will do." Drake nodded approvingly.

_"So, what do you think he wanted at Penguin's?"_ Oracle asked as Nightwing fluttered down on the roof of Penguin's nightclub.

"I have no idea. That's what I'm about to find out."

_"Is he still there?"_

Nightwing shook his head, then face-palmed when he realized the stupidity of his action. "No, he's gone. I'll go and talk to the Penguin and be right back on his tail in no time." ha assured the girl.

He left the line open and snuck into the Penguin's office. The man was just coming in from what seemed to be a satisfying dinner. "Enjoyed your meal, I see, ." Nightwing said, alerting the man of his presence. The Penguin squawked in alarm and gripped his umbrella tight before regaining his composure.

"What do you want?" he demanded angrily. "I'll call the police and have them arrest you for trespassing!" he threatened, pointing his umbrella at what smudge of blue he could see in the inky darkness.

Nightwing held his hands up defensively between them. "Woah! I didn't come here to fight you Penguin! Just to ask questions."

Penguin lowered his umbrella an inch to see the man better. "What questions? And be quick about it!"

"About someone who came here to see you recently. A kid, black hair, brown eyes, about yay high?" he held up his hand horizontally to his chest height. The Penguin seemed to have a person in mind.

"What do you want to know?"

"I want to know what he wanted from you."

"What makes you think he wants something?"

"Oh, _I_ don't think! Batman thinks. And if you don't want to answer to me, you can answer to him. Lets settle things quietly and less, er, violently between us two. Shall we?" Penguin blanched at the threat and nodded slowly.

"He wanted a gun."

Nightwing raised an eyebrow. "What kind of gun? And what for?"

Penguin sniffed huffily. "You think I know everything! I don't! He came, asked for a gun, he already had one on hand, mind you! He paid in cash and left!"

Nightwing nodded, sounded about right. "What kind of gun?"

"Loud, powerful, flashy, and automatic."

"And what did you give him?"

"Exactly what he asked for!"

Nightwing scowled but relented. "Goodnight, Penguin." and he was gone. What kind of assassin was Allen chasing if he needed a gun like that to take him down? He checked his GPS for the location of his tracker. He found it near the city hall and took off.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Nightwing landed on a dirty roof of an apartment and studied his GPS again. He was in the right spot. He changed into his civilian clothing and walked into the building. He asked the landlord if he had any new tenants arrive during the last week. The answer was 'no'. Confused, he stepped out of the building and double checked his GPS. To his astonishment, the tracker had moved since he had last looked at it. He looked around curiously. Then it hit him. He looked straight down. The sewers. He groaned.

Drake's head shot up, he thought he heard something behind him. He must've imagined it. He returned his attention to the time bomb he was placing on the wall of the sewer. He finished with his bomb and heaved his backpack full of more explosives onto a shoulder. A quiet splish and Drake spun around, immediately on guard. He held his breath and a moment later, the sound came again. He breathed out slowly. Of course there would be splashing sounds. He was in the sewer! He shook his head and continued trudging through the smelly water.

He heard a noise nearby again and whirled around to find himself staring at a man clad in black and blue spandex. His first reaction was to punch the man. The man was taken by surprise but managed to dodge the blow. Then Drake noticed the domino mask and groaned. "Really, what is it with Gotham and domino masks!" he asked, exasperated. "So, what character are you supposed to be?"

The man cocked his head to the side bemusedly. "Nightwing." he replied. "You've seen many masks like this one?" he asked conversationally.

Taken aback by the man's nonchalant behavior, Drake held back a second attack and shrugged his shoulders. "Three of them, to be exact."

Nightwing looked surprised. "You've met Red Hood?" he asked incredulously.

"I was in the neighborhood. Friendly guy, him." Drake told him sarcastically. "Polite enough to buy me a beer, though." he shrugged his shoulders. "A little after he threatened to through me out of Crime Alley in less than one piece."

Nightwing chuckled. "Sounds like him."

"So what is this? Is there some kind of underground 'domino masks only' club?" Drake asked him curiously.

Nightwing shook his head. "We just don't want to announce our occupation to the world, you know?"

Drake shrugged his shoulders. "You don't see me wearing a mask."

"Are you a vigilante?" Nightwing shot back.

"You're right. I'm a villain. Villain's don't wear domino masks here." Drake replied dryly.

"Well if you're a villain, I'll have to stop you."

"From doing what? What will you tell the police I did?"

Nightwing raised his eyebrow and glanced at Drake's bomb. "I think it's quite obvious."

"You won't lift any fingerprints from it so it's your word against mine." Drake turned and looked lamely at his bomb. "Besides, it's just a decoration. The sewers were getting a little dreary."

Nightwing snorted. "Tell that to Killer Croc."

Drake blinked at him, nonplussed. "Excuse me?"

He heard a splash and turned to see a smudge of green shoot out of the shadows and hurl Nightwing into the wall. He jumped back in surprise and whipped out a gun when he found himself faced with a scaly green face and the most fearsome row of teeth he had ever seen. He only managed to get one shot at the Croc which barely grazed his scaly skin before being thrown backward into the wall opposite Nightwing with a sickening crack and the tale-tell pain of his skull being split open. He slumped to the ground, gun slipping out of his grip and passed out.

Nightwing glanced at the unconscious boy in concern before his full attention was stolen by Killer Croc. Sure, the Croc was strong and quick but Nightwing was confident in his ability to beat him. They had fought for no more than ten minutes, chasing each other down to the lower levels of the sewers. But Nightwing gained the upper hand and soon had Killer Croc fleeing into territory that Nightwing was unfamiliar with. He decided not to pursue, Killer Croc wouldn't be back for a while. He stopped the chase to return to Drake.

When he returned to where he had left Drake, the boy was already gone. He scratched his head and nursed his left shoulder that had been injured when Killer Croc had thrown him into the wall and retreated to ground level for first aid. Drake's bomb was completely forgotten.

Drake watched him from the shadows and sighed in relief when Nightwing had gone. He wasn't looking forward to meeting with Killer Croc again and continued down his original route, planting bombs until he was directly under Gotham City Hall where the charity event would take place. He gritted his teeth determinedly and planted the last, biggest bomb before also leaving the sewers.

He came up just outside the tall building and made his way to a building on the other side of the street where he had left the gun he bought from the Penguin. He loaded the gun and positioned it to face the building across. He opened the window a fraction to fit the barrel of the gun in the opening and left.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

_"Don't worry about Allen Smitheson, Bruce! Nightwing and I have it covered. I'm sure it won't be necessary for you to interfere for a few hours."_ Tim could hear Oracle speaking to Bruce as the man tightened his tie and smoothed out his suit.

He knocked, gaining Bruce's attention. "Alfred's waiting outside for us." he informed his father. Bruce promised to call Oracle back after the charity event and hung up. He approached his son and adjusted his tie for him. Then, the two marched out the front door where Alfred was waiting to chauffeur them to the Gotham City Hall.

Bruce to a calming breath, he and Tim heard from Dick about his attack from Allen and he laid a comforting had on his young partner's shoulder. "You ready for this?"

Tim unbuttoned the two top buttons of his dress shirt to reveal his Robin costume underneath. "Ready." The two of them grimly continued into the car.

Drake fixed his tie for the fifth time in the last seventeen minutes and checked his watch. It was almost time for Bruce's speech. He glanced around carefully, not quite sure what to look for but wary all the same. It had been a while since he had dressed so nicely and was in high-class company like this. It worried him, what if his cover was blown? He shot glances at the entrances again just in time to see the Waynes walk in. He swiftly turned and made for the other end of the room. The last thing he wanted was to be seen by the Waynes, or be seen with the Waynes by Malak.

He saw he was walking straight toward a table occupied by a beautiful red head in a wheelchair. Barbara Gordon, Commissioner James Gordon's daughter and close friend of the Waynes. He immediately veered off course and wished he could just hide himself in the magnificent drapes that hung from the ceiling over the platform. He walked toward a group of boys about his age who were talking quietly. He fitted in perfectly. Barbara glanced at his retreating back and thought she recognized him but shook the thought away. She had to keep her focus on the Waynes or on any suspicious persons. Dick hadn't come to the event just like he told her over the phone, even if he was forced to do it. But she knew for sure that Nightwing was hanging around nearby.

Soon, the time came for Bruce Wayne's speech and the man marched up to the elevated platform to deliver. Barbara and Tim held their breaths but Drake didn't look up from his wristwatch. He counted down the seconds under his breath and glanced up at the platform.

Drake sucked in a breath and braced himself a second before the windows shattered and the loud sound of rapid gunfire filled the air. Glass broke, the drapes were turned into Swiss cheese, splinters were shot up into the air from the quickly destroyed wooden platform. Everybody panicked. Bruce was the first to snap into action and quickly got of the platform, dragging Tim, who was standing beside him, to safety with him. Everybody lurched for the exits.

Barbara floundered, being shoved along by the waves of masses trying desperately to escape and saved by the strong arms of her father who quickly guided her to safety.

Nightwing, who was loitering about on the roofs, heard the commotion and saw the gun firing from the building across the city hall. He swung down and dove through the glass, shattering it in the process. He skidded on the carpeted floor and turned, regaining his balance. The gun was firing randomly without a shooter. He quickly unarmed it and threw it disgustedly to the floor. The gun was shooting blanks, it was a diversion. The assasin was near his family. He rushed to save them. He shot off a line to swing through the already shattered windows of the city hall and pushed off when his breath was knocked forcefully out of his lungs and pain shot through his ribs. He grunted and clenched his jaws together as he felt his grapple-gun slip through his fingers.

Tim gasped in horror as Nightwing was shot out of the air. His shoulders sagged in relief when his older brother managed to twist in midair and shoot off another line to swing himself to safety. He glanced around for their attacker and out of the corner of his eye, saw a man he hadn't noticed during his first look at the crowd. The man really didn't stand out, Tim wouldn't have second glanced him if he wasn't carrying and gun and was making his way toward them quickly. How he had gotten it past security was beyond the boy. Bruce instinctively stepped between the man and his son. This only made matters easier for the assassin. He raised the gun and took aim.

He was completely unaware of Drake who was also making his way toward the Waynes, cutting through the surging crowds like a shark fin in water. Drake saw Bruce and Tim, then Malak a second later. His eyes barely registered the gun the assassin had in his hand when he was wrapping his small hands around the larger man's wrist and directed it upward to the ceiling, discharging the weapon into the air. The two wrestled, the gun shots blaring in their ears as they toppled over a splintered table before falling to the floor, still in each other's death grips. By the time Tim and Bruce Wayne had gotten to safety and the Dynamic Duo appeared, Drake and the assassin had broken apart, the gun lay empty and smoking between them. They circled each other warily. Drake, knew his hand-to-hand fighting skills to be inferior to Malak's and was stalling. Malak knew himself to be superior but unsure whether Drake had some tricks up his sleeve.

"Should we interfere? The guy will totally kill Allen!" Tim exclaimed worriedly. If Batman was seriously sizing Malak up, the assassin could probably overpower Robin as well.

Batman motioned for him to stand down. "Lets just see what happens."

Drake did indeed have a hidden trick up his sleeve. An explosion shook the whole building, knocking everyone but Drake, who was ready for the blast, to the floor. Drake leapt forward and threw a mean-looking throwing knife at Malak who just barely managed to block it with his arm. Drake flitted over the rubble toward the explosion and discharged a grapple gun that he had bought from a crook in Crime Alley. The man claimed to have salvaged it from one of Batman and Robin's flights, Batman knew that style gun. Drake discharged it into the floor near the gaping hole created by the explosion and jumped down through it. Malak followed closely on his tail and saw that Drake had planted multiple bombs, one on each floor, opening a direct route through to the ground floor and finally into the sewers. Malak grabbed one of the drapes and followed him. Batman and Robin exchanged glances and took off after them.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

"Nightwing! Come in, Nightwing!" Barbara screamed into her earpiece. Her father had gotten her out of the building safely and she had convinced him that she was alright and that he should go back to the crime scene. Alfred had found her on the street outside and had kindly escorted her into the car where she was free to function as Oracle. She called out Nightwing's name a few more times before finally getting a response. Alfred seemed just as relieved as she was to hear his voice. _"I've fine, Barb! I'm going back in to find Bruce and the kid. Tell me if you contact them."_ He didn't necessarily have to tell her to do it, she would've done it anyway.

They heard a loud explosion and the car rocked violently back an forth. They gaped, shocked as smoke began billowing out from all floors of the building. Nightwing told them it was the work of a bomb. Batman and Robin were nowhere to be found. A second bomb went off and Nightwing reported that the entrance to the sewers was sealed off.

"Woah! Did you hear that?" It was a rhetorical question that Batman didn't even bother answering. Robin blushed. Of course Batman heard it, it sounded less than ten feet behind them!

Another bomb went off close on their heels and Batman shot a concerned glance backward. Drake had set a trap where they could go nowhere but forward. "Any slower and we'll be caught in it." Batman told Robin warningly.

Drake glanced behind him and saw Malak coming up close on his tail. He glanced over Malak's shoulder and grimaced. It wasn't in his plan for the Dynamic Duo to follow him down here! He gripped a detonator in his fist and ran faster. Malak was not three meters behind him, the Dynamic Duo wasn't five meters behind Malak. Drake had an idea, he wasn't sure it would work but he could hope, couldn't he?

Drake continued running until he came into sight of the last time bomb he had set. The bomb behind the group detonated and Malak stumbled. Taking the opening he saw, Drake skidded to a halt and turned 180 degrees, fist lashing out. Malak couldn't regain his balance fast enough to slow down and met Drake's blow square in the face. "Run!" he shouted frantically to the Dynamic Duo who saw the last bomb and made it safely past it. Drake heard an all too familiar splash from an adjoining pipe and smirked. "Killer Croc!" he shouted. "Come get me!"

Killer Croc, not one who could resist attacking a nonmoving target who begged his attention, charged. Drake dove just out of reach and Killer Croc landed on Malak who was just getting to his feet, pinning him under him. Drake glanced worriedly at the last time bomb and wondered if he was fast enough to make it out of his own trap alive. He sprinted toward it. He wouldn't make it unscathed, that much was certain. The blast would surely kill him if he just continued running. He reached the bomb with only a few seconds to spare and ripped it off the wall, throwing it with all his might at Malak and Killer Croc.

The blast was stronger than the other ones in the sewers and the force of it threw Batman and Robin backward. The two scrambled to their feet as the pipes began collapsing. They escaped out of the sewers through a manhole just before the entrance was sealed off by more rubble.

"D-do you think any of them are alive?" Robin asked, Batman shook his head grimly.

"I don't know." he replied honestly, people were starting to gather so he steered Robin away from the scene. "We won't know until we talk to Commissioner Gordon."

Dick walked quickly into the Batcave with Barbara on his heels, Alfred had informed them that he would be in the kitchen preparing something for them to eat. They found Robin curled up in the chair by the Batcomputer. They looked around, no sign of Batman. "Hey, little bro! Where's Bruce?" Dick called out as lightheartedly as he could.

Robin looked up at them with tired eyes. Silent, as if wondering what to tell them. "He's gone to find Commissioner Gordon." he replied finally, his voice was hoarse, probably from breathing in too much smoke. Yes, that would also explain the watery eyes. Dick tried to convince himself that Tim wasn't crying.

Barbara, however, wasn't convinced. "Tim, are you crying?" she asked him. "What happened?" She approached him and laid a comforting hand on the boy's knee.

Alfred walked in with a few mugs of hot chocolate and Dick immediately knew by the look on the man's face that he was currently wishing he had thought to bring down a plate of the cookies that never failed to cheer Tim up. "Good Heavens, Master Tim! Whatever happened?" the concerned man asked. Just then, Batman walked in after the butler. Dick, Barbara, and Alfred turned their gazes on him immediately, demanding an explanation as to why Tim was crying. Tim wasn't meant for crying.

Batman pulled off his cowl and Bruce cleared his throat uncomfortably. "I just spoke with Commissioner Gordon." he announced, Tim finally aknowledged his presence. "His men are currently excavating the rubble from the site as best they can. But Jim tells me it might cause the rest of the sewer pipes to collapse and we may never be able to search it entirely. The good news is that so far, no bodies have turned up." Tim looked downcast, perhaps even more than before. He wrapped his arms around his knees and rocked back and forth.

Dick and Barbara forcefully escorted Bruce out of the cave for a better explanation of the situation and Alfred followed them, knowing Tim would want time alone. Even though they didn't know what exactly had happened yet. "What happened to Tim?" Dick demanded once they were out of earshot.

"And what did you mean 'excavating the rubble'? What happened to the sewer pipes?" Barbara added.

Then it dawned on Dick. "Oh, God. Allen!" he understood what Tim was upset about now. "It was Allen, wasn't it?" He began pacing around in front of the grandfather clock. "Oh, God, Bruce! I totally forgot about the bomb, I'm sorry!"

Barbara looked horrified. "Bomb? What bomb! Dick, what are you two talking about?" she demanded.

"Remember when I was chasing Allen around town, after he attacked me?" Barbara nodded. "He was in the sewers near the city hall when I caught up to him. He was setting a time bomb, I totally forgot!" Barbara glared at him, shocked. "Killer Croc attacked us and I forgot, okay! I'm sorry!"

Bruce frowned at him like he wanted to scold him but sighed and shook his head. "'Sorry' may not be enough this time." he muttered. "Allen had set a trap for the assassin and hadn't counted on Robin and I to follow them. If he hadn't slowed the assassin and Killer Croc down..." Barbara covered her mouth in horror and Dick looked shock. "He gave us time to escape but didn't get out himself. We don't know for sure if he's dead, Jim is using all the resources he could gather and is looking for him. Since his body hasn't been found, he may still be alive." he told them.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

It was pitch black, he couldn't move, he could hear water dripping from the ceiling of the sewers.

_Drip, drip, drip._

He tried to push out with his arm but couldn't move his hand, let alone gather enough energy to move a single muscle.

_Drip, drip, drip._

His breathing quickened and he could hear his heart beat faster. He couldn't move. He was trapped.

_Drip, drip, drip._

All of a sudden, he was a five-year-old little boy again, playing hide-and-go-seek.

_Drip, drip, drip._

He's hiding in the closet, hunkered down between one of Mommy and Daddy's suitcases and a storage box.

_Drip, drip, drip._

He could almost hear Christmas hymns wafting through the warm house. He could see the carpet that Daddy bought for Mommy from a gypsy on one of their travels when they were young. He could smell the musty smell of mothballs.

_Drip, drip, drip._

No, no, no, no! He couldn't think that! He couldn't remember! Don't remember! He was in the sewers under Gotham City! It was damp and cold! He was a teenager now! He was an assassin! A freelance mercenary! He wasn't five-years-old!

_But it WAS nearing Christmas._

_Drip, drip, drip._

He could hear them. His parents. Giggling, whispering. Calling out softly. 'Where are you?' They know he's here. He's just waiting for them to find him. Then they can all go downstairs to the livingroom where they would all sit on the floor around the fireplace, Daddy will read him a Christmas story, Mommy will smile and hand them warm mugs of hot chocolate. They would open Christmas presents. Then they would sing Christmas carols. And Daddy would tell him the story about how he and Mommy met. How they fell in love. How they got married. He would tell them he told Santa he wanted a White Christmas.

_Drip, drip, drip._

_He should've asked Santa for more time with Mommy and Daddy._

He's waiting. Waiting for them to open the closet door where the treasure hunt he made will lead them to him. Mommy's pretending she doesn't know where he is.

_"Is he hiding behind the couch? Is he wrapped up in the curtains?"_

_Drip, drip, drip._

Finally Daddy is opening the closet door. He's been hiding in there for so long that the light is almost blinding. He could only see a rod of light. But the door doesn't open any more than that. He knows something is wrong. His breath quickens and his heart beats hard.

_Drip, drip, drip._

He hears Mommy gasp and scream. Daddy's shouting. He hears something heavy fall. Daddy closes the door. He's left in darkness again.

_Drip, drip, drip._

He hears Mommy sobbing. He hears something liquid bubbling. Suddenly, Mommy is quiet too. He wants to shout, to ask them if they're okay. But he's scared. He pushes on the door but it won't open. Daddy must be holding it closed.

_"Daddy? Daddy? Open the door Daddy!"_

_Drip, drip, drip._

He feels something warm on his socked feet. He curls his toes away from it but it seeps into the closet. He wants to get out.

_"Mommy? Mommy? Make Daddy open the door! Mommy I'm scared! Make him open the door!"_

_Find me!_

_Drip, drip, drip._

He's pushing on the door, crying, screaming, yelling for help. Why wouldn't they open the door? Was he being punished? Was he being bad?

_I promise I'll be good!_

_Drip, drip, drip._

He doesn't know how long he's been screaming. He doesn't know how long he's been trapped in there. Surely Mommy and Daddy have forgiven him by now? He must've fallen asleep at some time. Something smells bad. It smells strong. He can't breathe. He's hyperventilating. He can't breathe!

_Can'tbreathe!Can'tbreathe!Can'tbreathe!_

_Drip, drip, drip, drip._

He hears someone outside the closet and tries to call out but his voice is gone. He's already screamed so much. His throat burns. It hurts so much! Whoever it is out there is moving around. What if he leaves and doesn't find me? Who is out there? Does it matter? He just wants to get out. Whatever it is on his socks has by now dried and he can't move his feet.

_What if I'm not found? Find me!_

_Drip,drip,drip,drip._

He's tired and his whole body hurts but he lifts his hands and pounds on the door with all his might. It's only a light tapping sound. He tries to scream but can only get out a whimper.

_Don't leave me here! Find me!_

_Drip,drip,drip,drip,drip._

The person outside stops moving, just freezes. Maybe he heard him? He whimpers again and continues tapping. He hears something being dragged away and the door swings open under his weight. He collapses flat on his face. Strange, he doesn't remember the gypsy carpet being entirely red, he doesn't remember it being so rough. But he's out of the closet. He's free.

_Somebody found me!_

_Drip,drip,drip,drip,drip!_

He tries to get up but only manages to push himself up a few inches and turns his head. He sees Mommy and Daddy. They're wearing red clothes. Did they change their clothes? Why were they sleeping on the floor? Why was Daddy sleeping with his eyes half-open? He feels cold.

_Nononononono!_

_Can't breathe, can't move, so scared, so cold!_

_DRIP,DRIP,DRIP,DRIP,DRIP!_

_Get me out of here!_

Drake gasped himself to wakefulness and choked back on a scream. He had no idea when he fell asleep or when he started crying. Usually he woke himself up when he cried. He never got to the end of his dream. He saw a faint glimmer of light flicker above him. It must be daytime up there. He wants to be up there. He blinks hard and focuses on the light. He can't think that he can't move. He'll panic again. He has to move. He has to get to that light. It will lead him out and above ground. He strained his right hand and was relieved when his fingers twitched. He could move. He shifts his shoulder and wedges his hand between the slab of stone pinning him down. He reaches up above his head and pushes. He feels the rocks shift and wobble. He pushes himself up with his feet and the rocks above him break into a wider opening. He breathes easier now. but he still can't get out. His whole left side is numb, and his right side is in pain. But he can breathe, he can move. He's so relieved he could almost laugh. But he's tired now so he'll sleep. He doesn't notice the blood dribbling down his side. He can't feel it. He's tired, so he sleeps.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Commissioner James (Jim) Gordon watched from the sidelines as multiple workers worked, heaving boulders out of what was left of the sewers. Bulldozers worked around the larger mounds of earth, shoveling it out of the way. Gordon sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Batman deeply felt, no, _wanted_ someone who was buried there to be alive. Someone who he owed his life to. He would find this person, he decided resolutely. Someone yelled for everybody to get back. People were panicking. The sewers collapsed in on itself as workers fled the scene. Gordon watched in horror as the earth swallowed up whoever couldn't get away in time. Most of the people were killed instantly. 'No hope for potential survivors' someone nearby said. Gordon turned to glare at the man but he's one of the senior workers, someone who knows his job better than Gordon does. He's not a man who gives up easily. 'I'm sorry' he says to Gordon. "It's not me you should be apologizing to." he replied. He has no idea what to say to Batman.

Barbara looks shocked, Dick looks remorseful, Alfred has a look that offers condolences, and Tim looks lost. He looks like he doesn't believe what Batman just said, like he doesn't want to believe it. And for the first time, Batman thinks of kicked puppies. "I'm sorry." he muttered and walked away.

"You can't be serious!" Dick shouted. Barbara latched herself on his arm to hold him back. "He can't be...!"

Alfred adamantly schooled his expression to a neutral one and left to make something for the rest of the group to eat. They'll need all the energy they could manage. Tim just shook his head and stared miserably at the computer screen. He felt as horrible as he looked. He was responsible for Allen's death. He was hurt when he found out Allen was lying to him, Allen wasn't even his real name. He resented him when Allen attacked Dick and bought a gun from Penguin. He was Hell bent on seeing him behind bars. Allen was trying to save Bruce. Allen saved him and Batman. And for that, Allen died. Tim dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. It was his fault, no matter how much everybody else denied it.

Oracle sniffed and dutifully rubbed all the remaining tears from her eyes. Allen was Tim's friend and died to save him. Tim would get over it someday, right? She turned on her computers to get back to work. She may have promised to help Black Canary on a case and completely forgotten about it. She noticed her computer in a state of alarm. Someone had tried to hack her system. She typed furiously on her keyboard and was relieved to find that no serious damage had been dealt. She began hacking into her intruder's systems and was granted easy access. She frowned. There were copies of the hacked police files on the computer, was this Allen's doing? Did that mean he was alive? She gained full access to the machine and found little more than what she already knew Allen had. There was an open line on the computer. Allen must've been recording someone's conversation and kept it running the time was a little after the Batclan had returned to the cave. Her heart began pounding. She rewinded the recording to the very begining.

All she could hear was strong static. She frowned in frustration and tampered with the sound. It didn't get much better. Then she heard a voice. She never heard Allen's voice before but she was sure it was him speaking. She couldn't hear much of what he was saying but she tried to piece it together. "Or...cle, th...lln. Th... (strong noise) aut...ic h...ng...uter... der...each...Bat...nn. Fin...ompk...an... dn...tt...ll...obin...sorr..." was just about all she could make out. She sat back in her chair and pondered on the seemingly gibberish that was being forwarded to her.

First, the message began with 'Oracle', that much she was certain of. She wasn't sure what was being spoken after her name but after the more serious white noise had passed, she was sure Allen was saying 'automatic' and 'reach Batman' she also heard the words 'Robin' and 'sorry' being spoken. She decided to contact Batman. Allen was still alive.

"You're sure? Alright." Bruce hung up and faced Alfred and Dick's expectant looks. He glanced over to where Tim was still brooding. "That was Oracle on the other end. She may have found proof that Allen is still alive." Dick's face lit up and even Tim's head shot up. He looked incredulous.

"You're serious!" Dick was more than happy for his little brother. "Isn't that great, Timmy?"

Tim wrinkled his nose. "It's not 'Timmy', it's Tim!" Robin was back in full force. Bruce smiled a little.

It was an hour-and-a-half later when the Wayne Manor phone rang. Alfred stopped his cooking dinner and listened for any other sound. It seemed all the vigilantes were still in the cave. He picked the phone up. "Hello, Wayne residence." He was momentarily distracted by a whoop from the basement. They really must make the Batcave Grayson-proof, apparently sound-proofing the place wasn't good enough. "I'm sorry, Leslie, do continue." Dick and Tim bounded up into the kitchen a minute later, victoriously.

As soon as Alfred put down the phone, Dick let out another gleeful yell. "It _was_ Allen! It was definitely him, Alfred!" Dick stepped aside a little to give Tim more space to crowd the clueless butler. "Tim? You have the honours."

Tim was near bouncing on the balls of his feet. "He sent Oracle the message! He said 'Find Thompkins!" he blurted out, grinning.

"Ah, yes! I just received a call from and she told me that she had a new patient who had asked for Bruce Wayne. Due to the extremity of his injuries, deduced that he must be somehow connected to Batman."

"Looks like we know where to find him now." Bruce said as he walked into the kitchen after his sons.

Alfred nodded at them sagely. "But do hurry, Master Bruce. has threatened greatly against you should you not come quickly. The boy's wounds are in dire need of attendance and has neither the power or resources to help him. She will be forced to bring him to a hospital, which Master Allen as forbid her to do, or he will die." he told them gravely.

Bruce nodded and near dashed out, his two wards on his heels. Alfred watched his boys' backs with great pride then. He entered the Batcave to ready the medical bay for their visitor and nodded in satisfaction when he was done. Then, he walked over to the Batcomputer where Allen's voice recording was still open. Alfred listened to it but didn't understand most of it. His eyes fell onto the desk where he found a slip of scrap paper with many words and sentences scribbled, most were crossed out. He frowned, last he had checked, the boys' literary skills were satisfactory. Then he read the message at the bottom of the page. 'Oracle, this is Allen. This is an automatic hacking of your computer in order for me to reach Batman. Find and if I don't make it, tell Robin I'm truly sorry.'

It was dark by the time they reached Leslie's clinic. They rushed inside unannounced, the doctor was waiting for them anyway. Leslie jumped up from her work desk when she saw them and marched up to them. The three vigilantes could tell the expression of the woman when she was ready to scold. "I'll save the scolding for later, Alfred tells me you have adequate equipment for the boy's wounds at the cave. You'll need to use it now... don't let him die." she said it like a threat. Bruce nodded obediently in the presence of his surrogate mother. Leslie led them to where Drake lay.

He was barely recognizable. His whole body was covered in blood and he was barely breathing, a tube had been thrust down his throat and was the only thing keeping oxygen running through his body. He was shivering violently and sweat ran down his face in small streams. He mumbled at times, incoherently, pleadingly. "I've cleaned him up as best I can, he's broken alot of bones and he can't yet breathe on his own. He's been having nightmares ever since he came in."

Dick's eyes shot near to his hairline. "'He came in' you say?"

Leslie nodded grimly. "Showed up on my doorstep like this. He was still bleeding and he wasn't breathing." she shook her head. "If he dies, Bruce..." she didn't finish her sentence but the others understood what she wanted to say.

"Is it safe to move him?" Bruce asked.

Again, Leslie shook her head. "I can't say that it is. But he needs treatment and he needs to be moved somewhere where he could get it. It's a choice between the Batcave and the hospital." Bruce nodded and between the four of them, they moved Drake to their vehicle. "Don't let him die, Bruce." Leslie told him again as they sped off back toward home.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

_"Hey, why do you call yourself the Custodian?" _he had asked his surrogate father once when he was seven.

The Custodian shrugged his shoulders as he took a swig from a bottle of vodka. _"Well, I clean things, repair things, make them like they're normal again. Look the word up in the dictionary, it's practically everything I do." _He told Drake proudly.

_"And you take care of me! After Mommy and Daddy died, you take care of me!" _Drake smiled.

The Custodian smiled sadly. _"Yeah, kid. Yeah, I do."_

_"But what's your real name?"_ The Custodian didn't know whether he should impress on Drake the uselessness of his real name or just let it pass.

_"It's a secret. You know, a secret? Everybody has them... you don't know what a secret is? You're, what, five or six years old?"_ Drake held up seven fingers. _"You're seven and you don't know what a secret is! It's... how should I say this. It's something people want to keep to themselves. It's either embarrassing, dangerous, or painfull to talk about. For example; what if someone asked you about your parents. Would you tell them?"_

Drake tilted his head a little. _"I don't remember my real parents, the people I was with on Christmas wern't my parents yet. They didn't adopt me yet."_

The Custodian looked remorseful. _"Oh, okay. What would you do if someone asked you what happened to your... almost-foster-parents?"_

_"I wouldn't want to talk about it."_

_"That's right, and you don't have to if you don't want to. That's your secret. So if someone does ask you; just tell them to 'fuck off'."_

_"But that's a terrible thing to say!"_

_"So? You're not the adoptive son of some couple who needs to be conscious of their reputation with the neighbors and such shit. You're my kid now. You can call someone a bad name if they piss you off. You can call me an asshole, if I'm being an asshole... but you'll still have to do what I say." _The Custodian took another pull at his bottle._ "How did we start this conversation anyhow? Oh, right! Names... hey kid, what's your name? I never caught it."_

_"What! Two years together and you haven't caught my name? You're an asshole!"_

_"Oh, hearty-har-har! You smartass! Okay, name, now."_

_"I don't know. Nobody ever told me."_

_"You don't have a name? Alright... lets see... the name on the front door of the house where I found you was 'Drake' so you'll be Drake."_

_"But what about my last name?"_

_"Your surname? Kid, you don't need a surname! Especially if it's a made-up one! Oh, no. Don't you dare pull a pout on me! (Sigh) Alright, might as well go the full nine yards, huh? Okay... what name do you want?"_

_"I don't know any good names."_

_"Well okay. What do you say about... ?"_

_"Who's ?"_

_"He's an Angel of Death, you know him too."_

_"Is he the man who killed my almost-foster-parents?"_

_"Yep, that would be him. Most people know him by his alias; Malak Astiz. Malak means; angel, in Arabic. And Astiz is just a name."_

_"What does my name mean?"_

_"Drake means; dragon. ... well, Allen means; fair and handsome... Just pretend it means a fair and handsome saint... Wait, that sounds impossibly gay..."_

_"But his real name is ? Malak's, I mean."_

_"His real given name is Allen, yep."_

_"What's his real last name?"_

_"Why do you want to know?"_

_"So I can... find him."_

_"And what will you do when you find him?"_

_"That's a secret."_

_"...Smartass. I don't know his surname, neither do I know if Allen is his real honest-to-God given name. It's just the name he gave me."_

_"Oh, okay."_

_"But really. What did you think you were going to do? Kill the son-of-a-bitch?"_

_"That's exactly what I was going to do."_

_"Kid, you'll go either very far, or straight to the grave."_

_"And then you'll come and clean me up. No harm done."_

_"Smartass."_

_Beep, beep, beep._

Drake awoke to a pleasantly numb but heavy feeling accompanied the sound of something beeping. Figuring it was an alarm clock or something, he lethargically thrust his right hand out to pound the snooze button it but was met with air. He panicked a little when his arm fell to his side and off the surface he lay on limply. He heard no other noise other than the incessant beeping and a morbid Darth Vader-like breathing that he deduced to be his own doing so he forced his eyes open. It took a while for his vision to focus on anything but he decided that he had time. He couldn't move much, after all. He turned his head with much difficulty and located the origin of the beeping noise.

He was hooked up to a electrocardiogram by several electrodes attached to his various limbs and on his torso. He then realized that he was shirtless, revealing his many scars and scabs from past injuries. He also noticed a new collection of stitches and surgical staples embedded into what skin he could see that wasn't bandaged up. He wished he could see past his chest even if just to make sure his feet were still attached to his calves, and his calves to his thighs. With all the numbness, he couldn't quite be sure. He became a little worried. He hadn't shattered his spine and lost the use of his lower body, had he? His breathing quickened at the thought and so did the wheezy sound of compressed air being released. His mouth was dry and swollen, he suddenly became aware of a tube that was lodged deep into his throat. It was uncomfortable but he could stand it.

He felt the mellow lure of sleep calling to him but knew he couldn't give in. He was in a strange place and could only tell for sure that half of his body still functioned. Wait, what of his left hand? It took a few agonizing seconds to move his neck to face his left side. He let out a sigh of relief. Still there! He tried to lift his hand and clench it but only managed to make it twitch. Good enough. He was slowly regaining feeling in his legs and had managed to make his toes wiggle. At least he hadn't lost a body part yet! He took a deep breath and tried to sit up. He only managed to lift his head an inch or two off his pillow when a searing pain lanced through his torso and down to his toes. He dropped his head back and gritted his teeth against the pain.

Once he trusted himself to move again without screaming, he glanced around the room to find the exits. He hadn't noticed it before, but this definitely wasn't a hospital. First of all, hospitals wern't built underground where bats were free to watch over patients, or poop on the less agreeable ones. Second of all, hospitals never had so much equipment in one room. Third, hospitals never had such big-ass computers in the vicinity. That would tamper a good deal with the equipment's functions. Fourth, hospitals never had... holy crap! Drake sucked in a sharp breath that burned in his lungs and bit back a startled yelp. "Um, hewwo, Bwathmaan, Thir." (Um, hello, Batman, Sir) Batman was reminded of the first time he met the boy. Only, he wasn't so broken physically, then. And Batman was Bruce Wayne, welcoming him to his own home. Drake raised an eyebrow at Batman's silence, he was currently staring at Batman upside down from his bed, but who was he to complain? "'Ou kno', whe' 'ome-one gweeths 'ou wif a 'hevvo' ith'sh ushu-ally pow-wite thuw anhwer in 'he sh'ame 'ay."(You know, when someone greets you with a 'hello', it's usually polite to answer in the same way) he told the fearsome man with the patience of an adult speaking to a child. If Nightwing or Robin were here, they would be thunderstruck at his courage, or bravado. They would think 'what is this kid thinking! He can't even talk properly!'

"How are you feeling?" Batman asked him finally.

Drake demonstrated by wiggling his fingers and toes. "Noffin' bwrok'hen. I'wl 'ive."(Nothing broken. I'll live)

Batman grunted. "I think it would be best if you didn't try talking for a good while. Your throat has been seriously damaged and you've broken several more than a few bones."

Drake rolled his eyes. "'Ah fink! Issha fu'khen abwa'ransh!"(You think! It's a fucking avalanche!) he exclaimed exasperatedly. Apparently, he hadn't quite taken Batman's advice to heart.

Just then, the elevator doors opened and Robin walked in with Nightwing on his heels. Drake started, panicked, and moved a hundred times more than he had in the last half hour. If fact, he practically leapt off the sick bed, on the alert, dragging various wires and machines with him. Then his knees buckled and he would've crashed to the ground if Batman hadn't leapt forward to catch him. "Ooww!"Drake clutched his throat where his panicked movements had caused the tube to shift to an awkward angle. He fumbled clumsily with the tube, threatening to rip it out.

Robin and Nightwing leapt forward to assist their mentor after the initial shock and surprise wore off. "Don't worry, we're not your enemies... I think." Nightwing weakly assured the wild-eyed boy and Robin had to remind himself that Drake didn't necessarily know his identity as Tim. While Drake was distracted, Batman pulled out a syringe filled with sedatives and injected the half-lucid, confused boy.

Then Drake locked eyes with Robin. "I'm sorry." he whispered as the edges of his vision began to darken. Robin's eyes widened in shock as he realized his hope that Drake hadn't linked the clues of his identity together was flushed down the drain. Drake's whole body fell limp in Batman and Nightwing's firm hold but he hung on to his consciousness for a few seconds longer, slurring half-coherent obscenities. Then he lost his losing battle against sleep and closed his heavy eyelids and went limp.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

Alfred arrived on the scene two seconds later after hearing all the noise. He stared unbelievingly at the scene before him but dutifully went about his work, replacing the machines to their rightful place around the sick bed and checking Drake's vitals to make sure no further damage had been dealt. He frowned at the state of the tube in Drake's throat and quickly remedied it. "May I ask how this madness began, Master Bruce?" he asked nonchalantly.

Batman pulled his cowl off and shrugged his shoulders helplessly. "He woke up. He seemed fine but Robin and Nightwing walked in and he panicked so I sedated him. The rest, you know."

Alfred frowned minutely, but the expression was gone as soon as it came. "He wasn't due to wake for at least three days."

Bruce sighed. "I wasn't expecting it either. By the time I noticed he was awake, he had already noticed me."

"His limbs shouldn't be working properly yet."

"They wern't, he collapsed as soon as he got on his feet!" Nightwing answered for Bruce.

"How strong were the sedatives you gave him?" And the harsh interrogation continued for a long while after.

Tim just sat on the sidelines, silently panicking. _He knows! Oh, God! He knows!_ Ran like a mantra in his mind. It wasn't long before Bruce noticed his agitation. "What's wrong?" he asked, Nightwing turned to Robin, also curious to know the answer.

"He knows! Allen knows Tim Drake is Robin!" Robin blurted out.

Nightwing glanced at his mentor, but coming to the conclusion that Bruce wouldn't say anything, approached his younger brother. "Um... wow, I don't know what to say to you, kid." he admitted sheepishly. "But it's not certain that he's an enemy. He might be a friend, you never know!" he told Tim encouragingly. "Hey! He might even consider joining the Young Justice!"

Robin pulled his mask off and Tim scowled. "If he was behind the assult on Gotham City Hall, then that's the last thing I want!" he looked slightly aghast. "I think even Penguin would have a heart attack if he knew how much damage Allen did with his gun!"

"That's nothing compared to what Superboy could do." Nightwing quipped.

"Allen is human! That's what scares me!" Tim shot back.

"If it's any consolation to you, the gun fired blanks." Tim raised his eyes dumbly to his brother's.

"What?"

"The. Gun. Shot. Blanks." Nightwing enucleated each word slowly and clearly for Tim. "The damage to the city hall was all previously set with just enough explosives to pock mark the podium and tear the drapes."

"And blow through floors." Tim added wryly.

"And blow through floors. But let's have this conversation, say, _after_ we find out what side he's on."

"Couldn't agree more." Tim frowned as if deep in thought, his brows furrowing. "How did he find out, anyway? I mean, of course there's the whole finding-the-secret-passageway hint but... he couldn't know for sure, could he?"

As though to answer his question, Bruce walked over to where Drake's personal effects had been collected and picked out the mercenary's watch. He handed the gadget to Tim. "It shows time, temperature, humidity, and coordinates. He must've realized the coordinates of the Batcave are only minutely altered from the Wayne Manor."

Tim stared at the watch face, it seemed to mock him. "What do we do now?"

The next time Drake woke up, his body didn't feel as numb as before, making every muscle strain and throb like he hadn't felt the first time he woke up. He heard a slight shuffle of feet in the distance and kept his eyes closed, feigning sleep. The pair of feet neared him and he became aware of a low voice murmuring and muttering something incoherent. The man, Drake supposed it was a man by the sheer length between the man's strides, moved quietly to his bedside and began adjusting various bandages and wires that ran up and down Drake's body. It took effort to stop himself from shivering or tensing visibly. He hated when people touched him. Bodily contact was saved specifically for when fighting, or sometimes when the Custodian would ruffle his hair. It was an annoying habit the man had, but it worried Drake more when he didn't do it. He forced himself to keep breathing steadily.

"Young Sir, if you are conscious, please show so." Drake knew that voice, cool, crisp, and undeniably British. Alfred Pennyworth.

Drake let out a breath and forced his heavy eyelids open. "When did you notice I was awake?" he asked and winced at the hoarseness of his own voice.

"When your heart rate elevated as I began adjusting your bandages, Sir." Drake glanced up at the screen showing his heart rate and groaned. He had entirely forgotten about that!

"What time?"

"11:30 a.m."

"Day?"

"Three days since you were last awake, Sir."

"You know what, just get me a calendar."

"It's the twentieth of December, Sir. You had but to ask."

"Clever, arn't we?" Drake sneered. Alfred looked unaffected.

Drake pondered for a moment on the upsides and downsides of getting up now. The charity event wasn't near the beginning of December and if Batman was still alive now, that meant Bruce Wayne was still alive. If Malak was still alive, he must've given up trying to assassinate him, meaning he had no need to stay. He must be on the other side of the globe now. And wherever Malak went, Drake would never be too far behind. And then there was the issue of his physical readiness. There was no way he was in any condition to get into another fight with Malak. He frowned. He needed to get in contact with the Custodian to tell him he'd be staying in Gotham for a while. Maybe he could follow up on his investigations while he was healing. Maybe he could sight-see? He wanted to observe the Joker, he wanted to know more about the international terrorist Ra's al Ghul, he wanted to see Red Hood again.

Alfred, who had been observing the young boy's behavior, noticed the similarities he had with Bruce. His thoughts never showed on his face but he had a cold, calculating look in his eye which alerted the butler of a few things he could be thinking of. And none of them associated with Drake staying in bed and healing his body. The butler frowned.

"If you will, Sir. Your body needs healing. I will advise you to rest." Alfred's voice broke Drake out of his reverie.

"Hmm?" Drake managed to inquire quite intelligently.

"Rest. Master Allen. And healing." Alfred intoned with an aura of authority. Drake never was good with taking orders. Now his mind was wandering off to the upsides and downsides of upsetting the elderly gentleman. Who knows? It could be interesting.

He shrugged his right shoulder when moving his left shoulder proved too painful. "Sure, I'm still kinda groggy anyway." he closed his eyes and listened as the butler nodded in satisfaction and walked away. He was just about to make his move when the footsteps returned. He opened his eyes. "Something the matter?"

Alfred was holding a glass of water and a few pills. Drake was wary of the pills and made sure it showed on his face. "Have no fear, Master Allen. It is merely a sleeping aid." the man eyed a nearby surface and Drake turned to look at it. The desk was cluttered slightly with obscure mechanical gadgets that Drake couldn't guess their use for and there was a broken glass. Had he been thrashing about in his sleep? He blushed.

"Sleeping aid?" he repeated, holding out his right hand for the pills. He had never taken any medication for sleeping problems before, the Custodian said he had no need for it. But then again, the man slept like a rock. He popped them into his mouth and chased them with the glass of water Alfred had been so kind to bring him. His eyelids began drooping slowly closed as soon as he returned the glass to the butler and he lay back. He saw the butler walk away and out of the Batcave before he closed his eyes entirely.

He waited five minutes, reassuring himself that the butler would not return. Then he snapped his eyes open and heaved himself over the side of the bed. He spit out the pills he had hidden under his tongue and smiled triumphantly. He had regained use of his legs! His left arm was in a cast, his ribs, how many had broken, he wasn't sure, and his ankle hurt him terribly but he could move. He frowned a little. He was completely naked save some shorts that he had no doubt was supplied by Tim. He looked around and his eyes fell on Dick's leather jacket that was thrown carelessly over the back of a chair. He took it but frowned to himself stubbornly. There was no way he was sneaking outside without pants.

Five minutes later, he was fully clothed in Dick's jacket, which he zipped up fully to hide his bandaged chest. And the pants he wore had once been part of a Batsuit. It was several sizes too large for him and hung loosely from his hips, at least they didn't stick to his skin like Robin and Nightwing's suits had done. Nobody would see him long enough to know the difference anyway. Now for his escape. He turned a full circle in the cave until his eyes fell on a sleek, red motorcyle. He smiled. There was definitely one upside in escaping.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Bruce let out a sigh as he replaced the phone in its crib. He had just gotten off the phone with Oracle. She told him the fruitless result of her investigation of Allen and once again, they were at square one with finding out who he really was. He stroked his chin absent-mindedly and thought. He checked the time and moved away from his work desk. Alfred would come looking for him sooner or later to call him down for lunch. He straightened his shirt and walked out of his office. In the hallway, he found Dick and Tim deep into a heated argument. "What's going on?" he asked in his best Bat voice.

Dick jabbed a finger angrily at his younger brother. "Tim stole my jacket and he won't tell me where he put it!" he said in the most childishly accusing voice Bruce had heard from him in a while. He looked at Tim expectantly, waiting to hear his side of the story.

"I didn't take it, Bruce!" Tim insisted adamantly, Alfred walked up the stairs to find them and happened on the conversation.

"Did you check the Batcave, Master Dick? I remember very clearly it was there when we last visited." Dick blinked at the man and dashed toward the cave.

Tim huffed and turned to Bruce. "Why does he love that jacket so much, anyway?" It was a rhetorical question and Bruce just shrugged his shoulders.

Dick was back in the room almost as soon as he had left it. Even Flash would be surprised at his speed. "He's gone!" he announced, Tim's head whipped around and the boy stared at him. "That thieving... he took my jacket!" Bruce resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

Drake pulled up in front of his apartment and left the Redbird running as he dropped it off. It would gain more attention with all the noise and he knew someone would most likely 'pick it up'. That was what he wanted, to lead Batman and his two prodigies on a merry chase. He wasn't stupid, he knew the Redbird most likely had a tracker on it, considering all the hidden gadgets on the thing. It was state-of-the-art machinery. Drake frowned. It was a waste to let it go. He wanted to study it's capabilities. He tugged out his backpack from under the couch and climbed out of his window to the fire escape. He always traveled light and purchased his needs locally, he never unpacked in case he needed a quick getaway. He fingered the cloth of one of Batman's many Batbelts and stuffed it into his backpack. It was bound to hold some useful things, right? He climbed down to the ground and slunk off into the dark labyrinth of alleys behind his apartment, he winced and clutched his side. He would need to find a new apartment.

"Okay, yes. I've found him. He's in Crime Alley." Oracle adjusted her earpiece and continued typing on her computer. "Wow, he's stolen, like, everything that has a tracker on it!" she chuckled. "He's got a Batbelt, a Redbird, and he's even got Dick's jacket!" She instinctively covered her mouth. She could imagine Batman and Robin exchanging dubious glances as Nightwing face-palmed himself. 'Did she...? So that's why he loves that jacket...' Robin would comment, a hint of amusement in his voice, no doubt, teasing his older brother. Batman would just tell them to concentrate on the problem at hand while trying to hide a smirk. The three Bat-boys did just that. She smiled at their predictability, silently congratulating herself. She was a prophet!

"Oh, wait, he's moving! The Batbelt and jacket are moving South-East while the Redbird is going North. He must've left it in the open for someone to steal." Robin blanched at that. Nightwing just smiled at him and reassured him that they would get it back... sometime. Batman motioned for them to move out and left the cave.

It was dark by the time Drake had finally decided to stop and rest, he hunkered down behind a large dumpster and surveyed his surroundings, sending wary glances upward toward roofs, just to be on the safe side. He needed a new name. Allen Smitheson just wouldn't do now, not with Batman with an ear to the proverbial ground, searching for him. He wracked his head for a name that wasn't too obviously fake. Usually, this came easy to him. Maybe it was his disorientation that was getting into the way. He looked across the street. A jewelry shop. He closed his eyes. Diamond. Adamas. Greek; unbreakable. He smiled. It would do for the moment. He needed an unremarkable name. John? Too used, too obvious, as was James. Brian? Brian Adamas. He mulled over the name for a while as he caught his breath.

He thought he saw a shadow on the roof of the jewelry shop and froze. He saw movement again and stopped breathing. Was it Batman? Had he already found him? He slowly stood up and turned to leave only to run straight into a sleek black suit and... a curvy body line! Okay, _not_ Batman. "Arn't you out a bit late, kid?" a sensuous female voice purred, a hint of curiosity was also present. Drake jumped back into a defensive stance, hand brushing over a slight bulge in his, Dick's, jacket pocket and felt the cold security of a gun. He hid a wince when he felt several stitches in his side tear.

"A bit early for the freaks to come out, isn't it?" he retorted through gritted teeth.

Catwoman pshawed at him but smiled as she prowled around him, sizing him up like he was a mouse. "So, who are you? And what are you doing out here at this time of night?" she asked, suddenly nearing him to study his face.

Drake jerked backward and tripped over his own sluggish feet. He fell to the ground less than ceremoniously but caught himself mid-fall as to not further embarrass himself. He hissed quietly but ignored his aching injuries. He pulled out his gun and pointed it at the woman. "I'm sorry that you've caught me at a bad time but I'm not in the mood for conversation." he told her impatiently. Catwoman only raised an eyebrow and said nothing. Drake pulled himself to his feet and staggered toward a side alley, Catwoman followed him slowly from a distance.

"You should get yourself checked out by a doctor."

Drake rolled his eyes. He knew she was only trying to help but he had lost alot of blood and he hurt all over, he couldn't care less. "If I had a place to treat myself, I wouldn't be out here at this time of night, don't you think?" he pointed out heatedly, but he didn't deny the fact that his wounds needed treatment. The edges of his vision began blurring and he shook his head, placing a heavy hand on a wall to steady himself. He squinted and saw a run-down pharmacy and began making his way toward it. Catwoman or no, his injuries were more alarming.

Bypassing the pharmacy's security was child's play to Drake. He entered the store and got out without tripping a single alarm. He could do this in his sleep, a skill he was glad for, he wasn't sure he could stay awake for long. He climbed up onto a nearby fire escape and dropped the stolen items on the ground, sitting cross-legged before them. He unzipped and gingerly pulled off Dick's now dirty and bloodied jacket, revealing the extent of his injuries to Catwoman. The lady couldn't stifle a horrified gasp and gained Drake's attention. "What? You're still here?"

The Custodian was a crude man, Drake couldn't deny that. The man never went to hospitals and always treated injuries at home. Which was why Drake now stared bewilderedly at the surgical staples on his torso. If it was the Custodian that treated him, he would've cauterized the wounds and be done with it. Drake bore many scars because of the man. He decided to treat the wounds he could and disinfect the rest. There was no use trying to treat a wound he had no idea how to treat, it only made things worse, he had learned the hard way.

No sooner had Drake hidden his wounds under Dick's jacket when a shadow crossed the sky. He let out a groan. How had the Bats always found him so quickly! Catwoman noticed his plight. "They're after you?" It was more of a statement than a question. Drake just nodded. "I'll help you."

Drake frowned a little but relented. "I'm not above asking for it."

"What's your name, boy?"

"Adamas, Brian Adamas." Catwoman raised an eyebrow at him. "Is there something wrong?"

She shook her head and led him away. "No, I can live with that."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Drake moaned softly as cool sheets brushed against his bare arm and opened his eyes a slit. For a moment, he didn't remember where he was. He jumped up out of the bed and grunted in pain when his feet touched the ground. He remembered that his ankle had broken and still throbbed diligently. He sank to the wooden floor and leaned back against the bed. Then everything came back to him. Drake wasn't sure when he had fallen asleep, he wasn't even sure if he knew when they had reached Catwoman's abode. He blushed. He couldn't have fallen unconscious before they had gotten here, had he?

Just then, the door opened and Catwoman slunk in with an expression that showed both amusement and concern. She wasn't looking at a hardened mercenary, she was looking at a wounded, scared child. He frowned and lowered his head to hide a blush. There was no doubt that he had indeed fallen unconscious and had to be helped along, or, God forbid, carried the rest of the way to Catwoman's apartment. Catwoman just stood silently, watching him carefully. Was he as naked and exposed as he felt? He looked around. "Where is my jacket?" he inquired calmly. Catwoman lazily pointed a slender finger toward a chair and Drake padded quietly over to it. He pulled his jacket loosely over his shoulders and inwardly breathed a sigh or relief when he felt the weight of his gun against his bare thigh. Then he looked down at said thigh and deadpanned. "Did you _have_ to strip me of my pants?"

Catwoman shrugged her shoulders. "Your wounds needed treatment." she said authoritively. "Do you always wear clothes that are several sizes too big for you?" she continued teasingly, Drake flushed at that.

"And my bag?" Catwoman pointed out of the bedroom and into the livingroom. Drake nodded his quiet thanks.

"I've made breakfast." the woman told him and walked out of sight and into the kitchen. Drake frowned slightly. Was she mad at him? That was no suprise, he had forced her to bring him back to her apartment single-handedly. He blushed in shame again. He found the bathroom and washed his hands before joining Catwoman at the dining table.

The female anti-hero had made a wonderful breakfast for the boy. Scrambled eggs with bacon, buttered toast, and orange juice were laid on the table before them. Hundred percent orange juice, he could almost smell the pulp. Drake narrowed his eyes at the small, dark jar by his bread. Catwoman followed his gaze and chuckled. "What, you've never had jam before?" she smirked jokingly.

"It's a sweet mixture made by boiling fruit and sugar together to make a thick paste like jelly. It's not like you can't eat bread without it." Drake frowned. "And it's poison for your teeth." Drake had always been curious about the concoction but the Custodian always brushed it off with that excuse. He always said that they needed identification to go to a dentist and that tooth aches hurt more than a bullet wound. So Drake stayed away from sweets and always took care of his teeth. He never got a cavity in his life.

Catwoman watched the boy across from her with vague interest as he scarfed down his breakfast, the jam lay untouched. "Where are you parents?" she asked, hoping to catch the boy off guard. She succeeded and Drake choked on his orange juice.

"Um... I don't know." he stuttered, he hadn't thought of Brian Adamas's background story!

Catwoman pressed on. "You don't know?"

Drake decided to tell her the truth, just with a different name. "I grew up in an orphanage. Nobody ever told me who my parents are, ... er, were? Anyway, I don't know anything about them. Don't know if they're still alive or not."

"You're not from Gotham."

Drake winced and chuckled humorlessly. "Was it that obvious?"

"Where are you from?"

"Los Angeles, temporarily England."

"I find it hard to imagine that social securities have the means to send their children away for overseas education."

"I came with my... guardian."

"Guardian?"

"Well, he's not my dad, but I'm his kid. It's a complicated relation. I.e, it's a long story."

"We have time."

"Actually, no we don't. I have to get out of Gotham and find the man as quickly as possible. Batman's on the war path, you know?" Drake had, by that time, finished his meal and carried his dishes over to the kitchen sink and began washing them. Catwoman never once let him out of her sights. "As lovely as this meeting has been, I've got to go." he said when he emerged from the kitchen. He opened his backpack, that Catwoman had inspected while he was unconscious, and tossed the Batbelt he stole to her. "It's really all I have to offer in appreciation for your help. I'm sure there must be something useful in there." he bowed his head in thanks and was gone before Catwoman could stop him. she was glad that she had destroyed all of Batman's trackers she found on him. He was a good kid.

She shrugged her shoulders and went about her day. It was easier to pretend to be apathetic.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Oracle shook her head and sighed in frustration. It seemed that with Allen Smitheson, they would always get so close to catching him when he would slip through their fingers like smoke. The trackers they had on him had all been turned off on the edge of Crime Alley, they had no way of finding him. She massaged her temples and rested her eyes for a few moments. Then her computer beeped, something had come up. It was the search she was running on the L.A police case files for deaths occurring at the time or date 7:28. She had come apon a few hits on her previous cross references but nothing solid. This case, however, caught her attention.

Bruce sat in front of the Batcomputer, frowning. He was studying the case files Oracle had sent him. Victims; Ricardo and Audery Drake. Cause of death; multiple knife wounds to the throat and torso. Time of death; roughly 7:30 a.m. Christmas morning. Bruce winced at that but continued reading. The forensics found the blood marred and smudged in some places. They found a bloody footprint, a child's footprint. It was turned away from the bloody scene. They found traces of blood and sweat on the inside of a nearby closet door. Bruce took one look at the picture and could imagine small hands scratching the wooden doors, leaving thin, red trails in their wake. Fingertips scrabbling against the hard surface, trying desperately to get out. He shook his head. He must study this case as an indifferent third-party. He was getting attached. To who? What was Allen? He was once a victim, what was he now? Had the offended become the offender?

The Drakes had been murdered in front of the closet, they fell against the doors, making it unable to open. _There was a child inside._ Three hours later, the scene was visited, or revisited. Whoever it was, found the child. The man dragged the Drakes to the other side of the room and let him, or her out. The bloodstains around the closet door were smudged, presumably by the child when he, or she must've fallen. _Too exhausted from struggling._ Then his savior took him away. He, or she, was never found.

Bruce frowned, the Drakes didn't have a child, they had visited several orphanages to adopt but they never got the chance to. He continued studying the crime scene photographs when he came across one that he knew would have Oracle in tears. The photograph was of the child's bloody footprints leading outside through the livingroom but the Christmas tree could be seen in the corner. The presents were untouched. Six presents for a very happy family. There was no hesitation in the bloody steps. The child never once looked back when he left. The picture was purely poetic.

Bruce closed his eyes and massaged his forehead as he quickly calculated the age the child would be now. It matched Allen's supposed age. A child who had his parents murdered in front of him. Screaming as they bled out. He knew the feeling of hopelessness. He closed the file and moved away from the computer to distract himself. He was getting too attached. He decided to call his contacts, ask around if anyone had heard something from the boy.

It was like a game of treasure hunt. Penguin, who had contact with Allen briefly, directed Batman to Red Hood, who had also ran into him. Batman decided to ignore that particular informant and approached the Riddler, who directed him to Catwoman. He let out a sigh as he landed on the roof of the femme fatale's apartment. Selina Kyle walked out to greet him. "I thought you'd come around." she smiled flirtatiously.

"Then you know what I'm here for." the smile fell and she turned away.

"He was here, the boy, this morning he left."

"He was here?" Batman raised an eyebrow dubiously.

"He was injured, scared, and bleeding out. What was I supposed to do? Hand him over to you?" Catwoman asked, turning back to him.

"Who, or what was he scared of?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. He was at least wary of you when conscious and had nightmares when he wasn't. I didn't have it in my heart to pry." Batman frowned, he had heard Alfred's first-hand account of the nightmarish effect Drake's dreams had on said boy.

"Do you know where he went?"

Selina shook her pretty head. "He said he needed to leave Gotham as quickly as possible. Said you were out to get him and that he needed to get back to his guardian."

"His guardian?"

"Didn't talk much about him. Just said that he wasn't his father, but he was his kid. Or something like that. Apparently, the man has an aversion to jam." Batman ignored that comment. "He's not a bad person, you know." Selina said about Drake as if in afterthought.

Batman pressed his lips into a thin, straight line and nodded stiffly before disappearing into the shadows.

"Oh, hello." Selina blinked when she found Drake on her doorstep when night fell.

"Hello, ." Drake raised two fingers to his front bangs in a lazy salute.

"May I help you?" Selina stepped aside to let the boy in. "Should I go make you a cup of coffee? Tea?"

Drake shook his head and held out a fist in her direction. "I just came to give you this." he dropped a necklace with a jeweled cat pendant on her palm. "I just thought it might suit you better than an equipment belt." he shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly. "And I needed money."

Selina smiled and Drake felt like he was seeing the real Catwoman. "Careful, tiger. One might think you're trying to flirt with me."

Drake smiled back. "Let them. You're too good for me anyway." he turned to leave. "If you ever find yourself in need of some kind of help, I'm a freelancing mercenary. Call me up." he began walking away.

"Wait! I don't know your name." Selina called after him.

"My name is St Allen" Drake threw back a wave as he left the building.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Drake smiled charmingly at the pretty stewardess that checked his ticket and moved slowly to his plane seat. He settled into his seat and stared blankly out of his window. He looked down at his hands which were knotted together in his lap, and smiled. If the GCPD could be bought by money, why not a stewardess? Why not a pilot? Why ever not an immigrations officer? Drake loved Gotham. He opened his passport and stared at the picture of himself. Name; Brian Adamas. He smirked, he had to admit, Gotham's people had some skills. The passport looked almost real, even to him! There was a slight commotion in the aisle and a couple sat on the seats next to him. He closed his passport and put it away.

He tried to ignore his new companions, he was often told it was rude to stare. But the flight would be a few hours and they hadn't even gotten off the ground yet! He snuck a glance at them. The woman who was sitting next to him and separating him from her companion was beautiful. She had straight, black hair and a serious face that commanded no nonsense. She held a shoulder bag and a notepad was laid across her knees. Drake had no complaints about her legs. He stole a glance at her notepad and recognized the logo for the Daily Planet, a newspaper centered in Metropolis. That explained the business-like air the woman had. Drake immediately turned to resume staring out of the window. The last thing he needed was to run into a reporter!

Lois Lane peered past a teen's head and looked out of the window, she noticed the boy doing the same. "Looks like rain, huh?" she smiled. The boy turned and looked at her quietly, then nodded.

"Weather reports suspect a storm is brewing." Clark chimed in, no sooner had the words left his mouth when a flash of lightning lit up the sky followed closely by rolling thunder.

Lois glared at him accusingly. "You just had to jinx us, didn't you?" Drake tuned the two out, he didn't want to get involved in their fight. Surprisingly, the large, bespectacled reporter just took the comment in stride. He seemed to be used to it. 'Whipped' Drake thought with a wry grin.

Fifteen minutes into the flight, Drake knew he wouldn't be able to catch a break. He smelled gunpowder, from where, he had no idea. He abruptly got up and excused himself to go to the bathroom. He passed over the two reporters and hurried to the back of the plane and past the bathrooms. He stopped at the rear exit and began small-talking with the stewardess there. Then, three men stood up simultaneously, they wore black ski masks and were holding guns. One of them began shouting something that Drake couldn't make out. They were on opposite ends of the plane. Seeing their problem, the shouting man forced his way into the cockpit and began waving his gun around. A second later, a crackle was heard over the loudspeakers. _"Attention all passengers, this is the pilot speaking!" _Drake frowned at the quiver in the man's voice._ "This plane has been hijacked. All passengers please remain calm and give them your full cooperation."_

Silence reigned in the airtight prison, everybody just stared at the speakers in shock. Then one girl screamed. The nightmare began. Drake winced as the noise in the airplane escalated, everybody was screaming and shouting. The stewardess who he was speaking with excused herself to help calm down the masses. Drake shook his head sadly. With all the commotion everybody was making, it wouldn't be long before the hijackers made a public example, what would happen if the passengers didn't cooperate. No sooner had the thought crossed his mind when three shots rang out, echoing from the front of the plane to the back. Again, silence overcame the people. The shooter dragged his unfortunate victim out of his seat and dragged him the full length of the plane so everybody could get a good look at the body. "Listen up!" the violent one shouted as he walked. "This is what's going to happen to anybody who doesn't give us full cooperation. You get a bullet in your chest!" he waved his gun toward his victim. "So everybody shut up!"

The man dropped his victim's body once he reached the back of the plane and saw Drake. "You! Sit down, now!" he ordered, Drake decided to play the part of helpless little boy and immediately complied. He sat down in the nearest open seat and settled himself in. The hijacker leaned over him and buckled his seatbelt, pulling it tight. "Everybody fasten your seatbelts!" he shouted once he was done. "And tighten it! Don't put anything on your laps! I want to see your seatbelts! If I don't...!" he let the threat hang over everybody's head. The compartment was soon filled with clicking noises as everybody rushed to follow their orders.

Drake glanced over to his original seat and at the couple who had been sitting next to him. "All we had to do was get to Gotham, interview Bruce Wayne, and write an article on the charity event incident. And then we could go back to our homes, where we could just take a shower, get a decent meal, and relax! But no! We have to get stuck in a hijack!" he heard the woman complain. He couldn't resist a grin, he liked her. Then he turned his attention back to the hijackers and frowned. There could still be more terrorist hiding in the passengers or the airline staff. He disliked hijacks when he wasn't the one instigating them. He decided to wait and see what the terrorist's first move would be.

Money, Drake rolled his eyes. That's what it all boiled down to? Typical small time crooks. His only hope for a nice, peaceful return home for recuperation was crushed for a few extra bucks! He could not belive this. He wanted to get out of Gotham before he got killed by some psycho and yet he finds himself in mortal danger of a plane crash on his way out. He hated Gotham, Gotham must hate him as well with all the troubles she was throwing his way. The hijackers explained very carefully what would happen next. The authorities on the ground would transfer a great some of money into an untraceable bank account and once the hijacker's received the money and the plane landed, they would take a few people hostage and leave the plane from the rear. If their demands were not met, they would blow a hole in the plane, causing it to crash. It was a simple, yet effective plan of action. Only... he frowned. Things could get messy. If he was the hijacker and he took these actions, he would blow the plane up as he parachuted to safety. There was no way the police would let the hijackers get away if they got off the plane in the airport. The hijackers wern't planning on letting a single hostage live.

He craned his neck to peer down the aisle where two of the three hijackers stood idling. They both wore identical backpacks. Drake looked around for any other backpacks like them. He found three others, six terrorists in total. One was worn by the third exposed hijacker, another was stuffed under a passenger seat and the third was hidden in a refreshments cart. The three hijackers set an explosive device on one of the airplane doors and waited for the transaction. Drake guessed that would be their escapeway.

The tense wait only lasted about half-an-hour before one of the hijackers announced over the loudspeakers that the money had been received. Hundreds of passengers let out unified sighs of relief but Drake knew the ordeal was far from over. "Hey!" one of the passengers called out bravely. "What's going to happen to us?" Apparently, it wasn't only Drake who was thinking along that line. The hijacker closest to the man pointed his gun at him and fired. Panicked passengers screamed, causing the pilot to lose concentration and the plane dipped dangerously to the side. The stewardess cart that Drake had noticed before, now rolled, unmanned, in his direction. Drake took the opportunity to snag the parachute and exchange the backpack with the one under his own seat.

Then, the hijackers moved slowly down the alley to the rear of the plane and they grabbed their 'hostages' as they went and soon, all the hijackers were in the back of the plane. Drake could see the detonators in one of the terrorist's hand now. He held one that would set off the explosives on the door and let them out and the other was for the bombs set to crash the plane. If he was going to move, now was the moment. He slipped his parachute on and waited as his target set off the first bomb. He unbuckled his seatbelt and dashed toward the group just as the door exploded, sucking all six of them out of the plane. Drake had managed to grab hold of his target the moment before the air pressure whisked them off their feet. He wrestled the second detonator out of the man's hand and shoved him away.

He hated this feeling, the freefalling, tumbling, being shoved about by the air current. He somersaulted in the air before finally regaining control of his movements. He spread his limbs out for balance and glanced up at the blossoming parachutes above him. One of the hijackers screamed when he realized his parachute had been stolen and plummeted to the earth. He peered past the expanse of canvas as the plane wobbled, barely under control. Then he saw a blue and red smudge outside the plane and the machine steadied. Drake pulled his own toggle and felt his stomach drop into his feet as he was jerked upward. He guided his parachute away and drifted lazily off from the group.

He was sinking in the sky for a while now, he looked down and could see empty fields, the terrorists would get away from the police easily from his distance. He drifted over a wooded area when the red and blue smudge came by again. He looked up and watched as whatever it was incapacitated the terrorists and came for him. He gulped and looked down past his feet. He could survive a fall from this height. The trees would stop his fall. He unbuckled the parachute and let his arms slip out of the harness. And he was freefalling again.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

"Well, the kid's good at disappearing, you'll have to give him that." Nightwing commented to Robin as the two of them sat perched on a roof several yards away from a quiet warehouse. Robin rolled his eyes and shook his head. He was hoping for a quiet stakeout.

"Yeah, he's good. He's gone and he doesn't want to be found. We've had this conversation before, Nightwing." he glared at his older brother. "Many times."

Nightwing shrugged his shoulders helplessly. "What? I'm curious about him! He came, befriended Robin..."

"Tim Drake." Robin interjected.

"Alright, he befriended Tim Drake, he escaped Oracle's grand cybertraps of doom..."

_"Although, just by a margin."_ Oracle interrupted him this time.

"He foiled an assassination attempt on Bruce Wayne..."

"While ironically causing more damage than he assassin himself."

"He saved yours and Batman's life."

_"And caused many headaches by flitting from Leslie, to the Bats, and to Catwoman for medical supplies."_

"He stopped a plane boarding hundreds of people from blowing up, parachuted out of the plane, and disappeared from under Superman's nose... Superman! Can you imagine?"

"The look on Superman's face? Or, him jumping out of a plane?" Robin quipped.

_"Not to mention that his dark past has gained Batman's sympathy... not like he'd ever say it."_ Nightwing's eyes widened.

"Woah, really! How come I haven't heard of this?"

_"Personal secrets and identities. You know how Batman is about that."_

"You know how I am about what?" Nightwing and Robin jumped when the caped crusader spoke up from behind them, voice booming in all his fearful authority.

"N-nothing Sir." Nightwing stuttered, Batman just shrugged his shoulders and focused on the warehouse.

"Any movement?"

At Arkham Asylum...

Aaron Cash liked him, he was always friendly when he was lucid. Sometimes they would just sit around and talk, sometimes they'd play card games. Sometimes the patient would ask where he was and what he was doing in a place like the Arkham Asylum. At times like that, Cash would wonder why too. The kid was an amnesic and the authorities didn't know where else to put him. The staff dubbed him Acer Maplestone. When asked where the name originated from, Cash brought in a few leaves of the Acer Palmatum that had been found on the boy's person, to show him, and he correctly identified it as a Japanese Maple leaf, a 'momiji'. Cash decided he was from Japan, he looked Japanese.

He was calm for most of the time, sometimes Cash even forgot that he had amnesia. He was so normal, he functioned like a regular kid. But then there were the nightmares. He would scream, thrash, and attack people in his sleep. The staff sometimes had to sedate him with enough drugs to put Bane's lights out to keep him from killing someone. Sometimes he was dangerous. Cash couldn't deny that, he still had bruises on his neck where the kid had tried to strangle him. Damn near killed him, too. But this time, he was fully conscious and aware of his actions. He killed one doctor and injured seven guards. He needed to be put in a more secure cell.

The guards led a chained Acer down the halls of cells. They passed Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn, ... Acer had given up matching faces with names after that. They finally reached an empty cell and led him inside. "Oh? A new guy!" The Joker grinned from the next cell, happy to have a mate. The guards ignored the insane man and left, leaving the chains on the boy's limbs.

"Make yourself comfortable." One of the guards sneered at the boy. Acer just sat down on the edge of his hard bed, hands folded loosely in his lap and tilting his head to the side as if wondering why a heavily injured Killer Croc, who was in the cell across the hall, was snarling at him warily.

"Hey! New guy! What's your name?" The Joker called out to him eagerly. Acer raised his eyes to meet the man's

"They call me Acer Maplestone, here." He stood back up and walked to the wall he shared with The Joker. "In the streets of Gotham City, they called me Allen Smitheson." He pulled out a paper clip that was hidden in his sleeve. "Alot of people who employ me call me Drake." He smiled at The Joker as he easily unlocked his manacles, letting them fall into a mound of metal at his feet. "Just call me Harry Houdini." He smiled widely at the man.

The Joker seemed momentarily startled by Acer's lack of fear for him and just watched, mouth agape as Acer pulled out a deck of playing cards. He winked at The Joker and swiped the mechanical lock on his cell with a blank card. The door swung open. "You, Mr-Clown-Prince-of-Crime, are very lucky I was hired to break you out of here before I'd left the continent." He unlocked The Joker's door and let him out. "A hefty price for your freedom too, Joker. Feel free to get arrested anytime." Acer guided The Joker to the planned escapeway and disappeared into the shadows.

"Hm, learning a few tricks from ol' Batsy, eh?" The Joker mused as he stretched and popped a few stiff joints. "Ahh! But it's good to be back!" He sighed satisfactorily. "Let's have a part-tay!"


End file.
